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THE 

EVERGREEN 


1837. 


M 


o^- 


T  H  E 


EVERGREEN. 


REVISED  BY  THE  COMMITTEE  OF  PUBLICATION  OF  THE 
AMERICAN  S.  S.  UNION. 


AMERICAN    SUNDAY    SCHOOL    UNION: 

PHIL.A.DELPHIA. 

1837. 


I.  ASIIME.VU  AND  CO.  PRIXTKIIS. 


PREFACE 


3» 


^       The  following  collection  of  original  and  selected 
^  articles  forms  a  volume  appropriate  to  the  season, 
^  and  to  the  class  of  youthful  readers  for  whose  use 
it  is  especially  designed. 

Its  title  is  intended  to  be  significant  of  its  charac- 
ter and  value.  The  Evergreen  is  an  emblem  of 
<  permanence  and  stability — so  the  great  truths  we 
here  inculcate  are  eternal  and  unchangeable ;  and 
whatever  becomes  of  us  or  of  the  world  we  inha- 
bit, the  truth  of  God  must  abide  for  ever. 


!582S 


IV 

The  Evergreen  is  also  emblematical  of  joy  and 
victory — and  hence  it  fitly  illustrates  the  triumph 
of  wisdom  over  folly,  truth  over  falsehood,  and 
holiness  over  sin — to  hasten  which  is  the  great 
purpose  of  all  the  Society's  publications. 


CONTENTS, 


Page 

I.  The  Evergreen, 9 

II.  The  Blessedness  of  the  Righteous,        -        -  16 

III.  The  Better  Land, 17 

IV.  Consolations  under  the  fear  of  Death,    -        -  19 
V.  The  Pilgrim  of  Zion, 24 

VI.  The  Grave  of  the  Year,          -        -        -        -  25 

VII.  The  Hope  of  the  Christian,    ....  31 

VIII.  Which  is  the  happiest  death  to  die  ]       -         -  32 

IX.  What  a  Child  can  do  for  the  Heathen,            -  35 

X.  Uncertainty  of  Life, 52 

XI.  Funeral  of  a  lost  Soul,  -         -         ...  53 

XII.  New  Year's  Hymn, G2 

XIII.  Reflections  on  the  close  of  the  Year,      .        .  61 

XIV.  Love  to  God, 68 

XV.  Dream  about  the  old  Year,    -        -        .        .  70 

XVI.  To  Spring, 78 

XVII.  Simple  exhibition  of  the  design  and  duty  of  Prayer,  80 

XVIII.  Charley  and  his  Father,        -        -        -        -  91 

XIX.  Youthful  Devotion, 94 


VI 

Page 

XX.  Hymn  to  the  Deity,       ....  98 

XXI.  January, 99 

XXII.  The  Pride  of  the  Peacock,     -        -        -  101 

XXIII.  Zion  Comforted, 105 

XXIV.  Mummies, 107 

XXV.  Midnight  (Dec.  31.)       -        -        -        -  115 

XXVI.  Singular  Animals,          -        -        -        -  117 

XXVII.  The  Universal  Voice  of  Praise,      -        -  119 

XXVIII.  The  Death  at  Sea,          -        -        -        -  121 

XXIX.  The  Advent, 126 

XXX.  The  Promise  of  a  Saviour,      -         .         -  127 

XXXI.  The  Mission  from  the  Heathen,      -        -  129 

XXXII.  Good  News, 133 

XXXIII.  Trust  in  the  Lord,          ....  139 

XXXIV.  Will  you  Go  ] 141 

XXXV.  Will  you  Come] 144 

XXXVI.  Star  of  Bethlehem,         ....  147 

XXXVII.  New  Year's  Hymn,       -         -        -         -  148 

XXXVIII.  Construction  of  a  Fly's  Foot,         -        -  149 

XXXIX.  Immortality  of  the  Soul,         ...  154 

XL.  The  New  Year, 155 


♦  . 


EMBELLISHMENTS. 

Page 

Child  at  Prayer  (Steel)  Frontispiece,          -            -  1 

Palm  Tree,                .            .            .            .            .  15 

A  Father's  Counsels,  (Steel)           -            -            -  80 

The  Peacock,           -            -            -            -            -  101 

Egyptian  Mummy,               .            .            .            _  107 

Sukotyro,      -             -             -             -             -             -  117 

Cape  Cat,     -..---  118 

Hindoo  Deities,        -----  128 


«• 


Ui 


THE    EVERGREEN. 


There  is  a  class  of  trees  and  shrubs  whose  leaves 
do  not  wither  in  the  autumn,  as  the  leaves  of  other 
trees  and  shrubs  do,  but  remain  green  throughout 
the  whole  year. 

In  almost  every  forest  we  find,  here  and  there,  a 
bright  green  tree  or  plant.  And  when  all  around  it 
is  leafless  and  dreary,  and  even  in  the  depth  of 
winter,  when  the  earth  is  covered  with  snow,  the 
evergreen  shows  its  glossy  leaf  and  its  vigorous 
branch,  as  if  it  knew  no  season  but  spring. 

It  is  so  with  the  lessons  which  our  pious  fathers 
have  taught  us,  and  especially  so  with  the  truths 
which  divine  wisdom  teaches.  These  last,  like 
their  great  author,  change  not — but  are  the  same 
yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever. 

In  the  happy  days  of  childhood  and  youth,  when 

B 


10 

we  have  no  care  or  thought  for  the  future,  we  may- 
think  the  restraints  which  these  lessons  would  im- 
pose upon  us  are  too  hard  to  be  borne.  We  are 
inclined  to  take  the  counsel  of  the  wise  man,  and 
to  rejoice  and  let  our  hearts  cheer  us  in  the  days 
of  our  youth;  but  oh!  how  few  of  us,  at  that  period 
of  life,  think  soberly  of  the  rest  of  the  wise  man's 
counsel,  Know  thou, — remember, — be  assured — 

THAT  rOR  ALL  THESE  THINGS  GoD  WILL  BRING  THEE 
INTO  JUDGMENT.    EcC.  xi.  9. 

There  is  a  very  impressive  picture  drawn  in  the 
first  of  David's  Psalms,  of  the  diflerence  between 
the  righteous  and  the  wicked.  The  good  man  is 
compared  to  an  evergreen.  If  our  readers  have 
not  studied  it  very  often  and  very  carefully,  they 
have  not  seen  all  the  beauty  of  it. 

Blessed  is  tlin  man 

That  walkelli  not  in  the  counsel  of  the  ungodly; 

Nor  staadeth  in  the  way  of  .'dinners  ; 

Nor  sitteth  in  the  seat  of  the  scornful. 

But  his  delight  is  in  the  law  of  tlie  Lord, 

And  in  his  law  doth  he  meditate 

Day  and  night. 

And  ho  sliall  be  like  a  tree 

•V 


11 

Planted  by  the  rivers  of  water, 
That  bringeth  forth  his  fruit  hi  his  season ; 
His  leaf  also  shall  not  wither, 
And  whatsoever  he  doeth  shall  prosper. 

Of  all  the  evergreens,  none  perhaps  is  more  fa- 
mous than  the  Palm  or  date  tree.  Linnaeus,  the 
great  botanist,  calls  the  whole  order  to  which  the 
Palm  belongs,  "  princes  of  the  vegetable  kingdom, 
distinguished  by  their  sheathed  and  many-spiked 
flowers,  their  flowing  habit,  their  lofty  stature, 
the  simple  elegance  of  their  unbranched  and  long- 
enduring  stem,  the  leafy  evergreen  garlands  M'ith 
which  they  are  crowned,  and  their  princely  trea- 
sures of  rich  fruit." 

The  palm  or  date  tree  belongs  to  the  warm  cli- 
mates of  Africa  and  Asia.  It  rises  to  a  great 
height,  sometimes  as  much  as  ninety  or  a  hundred 
feet.  The  leaves,  which  grow  only  near  the  top, 
and  fall  oft'  as  the  stem  rises,  are  six  or  eight  feet 
long,  and  reach  out  far  on  every  side.  The  flow- 
ers, in  clusters  near  the  top,  are  small,  divided  into 
six  parts;  those  which  produce  fruit  and  those 
which  do  not  being  on  separate  trees ;  the  fruit, 
called  dates,  consists  of  a  hard  kernel  surrounded 


12 

by  a  soft  pulp.  The  stem  of  the  palm  is  entirely 
different  from  those  of  the  trees  we  are  accustomed 
to  see.  It  is  round,  straight,  and  nearly  of  the 
same  thickness  from  bottom  to  top ;  on  the  outside 
are  many  rough  knots,  where  the  former  leaves 
stood.  Within,  there  is  nothing  like  the  woody 
rings  of  our  common  trees,  but  the  appearance  is 
somewhat  like  that  of  a  stalk  of  Indian  corn.  On 
the  top  of  the  stem  there  is  a  cluster  of  small  green 
leav^es,  sometimes  called  the  cabbage.  Besides 
being  a  noble  and  beautiful  tree,  the  palm  is  highly 
valued  for  the  great  variety  of  uses  made  of  differ- 
ent parts  of  it.  The  fruit  affords  a  common  food 
for  the  people,  while  their  camels  feed  upon  the 
seeds.  From  the  leaves  are  made  baskets,  mats, 
and  brushes;  from  the  branches,  cages  and  fences; 
from  the  fibres,  thread  and  ropes;  from  the  sap 
and  the  fruit  arc  prepared  a  sort  of  wine  and  ho- 
ney, which  are  thought  to  be  meant  in  Gen.  xliii. 
11 ;  2  Chron.  xxxi.  5;   and  Isa.  xxiv.  9. 

Palm  trees  abound  in  many  parts  of  the  East, 
though  few  are  now  found  in  Judea.  In  former 
times,  however,  they  were  numerous  in  that  coun- 
try, in  well-watered  plains  and  valleys.     Jericho 


^  ' 


13 

was  called  "  the  city  of  palm-trees."  Deut.  xxxiv. 
3;  Judg.  i.  16;  iii.  13;  2  Chron.  xxviii.  15.  Un- 
der a  tree  of  this  kind,  Deborah  had  her  dwelling. 
Judg.  iv.  5. 

Solomon  built  a  city  in  the  desert  a  considerable 
distance  to  the  east  of  Syria,  probably  to  protect 
the  trade  carried  on  over-land  with  the  eastern 
countries.  This  city  was  called  Tamar,  or  Tad- 
mor  (1  Kings  ix.  18;  2  Chron.  viii.  4;  Ezek.  xlvii. 
19 ;  xlviii.  28) ;  and  afterwards  Palmyra :  names 
taken  from  the  abundance  of  palm  trees.  It  now 
presents  a  wonderful  scene  of  temples  and  columns 
in  ruins,  surrounded  by  deserts  of  sand.  Soon  after 
passing  the  Red  Sea,  the  Israelites  came  to  Elim, 
where  they  found  twelve  wells  of  water  and  seventy 
palm  trees  (Exod.  xv.  27) ;  at  the  same  spot  there 
is  still  a  number  of  them. 

The  word  Tamar,  signifying  a  palm,  seems  to 
have  been  a  common  female  name  among  the  He- 
brews, taken  from  the  straight  and  beautiful  figure 
of  the  tree.    Gen.  xxxviii.  6;  2  Sam.  xiii.  1. 

For  the  same  reason  also,  the  palm  afforded  a 
model  for  stately  columns.  1  Kings  vi.  29  ;  2  Chron. 
iii.  5;  Ezek.  xl.  16. 


14 

Jeremiah,  describing  certain  idols,  says,  *'  They 
are  upright  as  the  palm  tree,"  but  of  course  dumb 
and  senseless.  Jer.  x.  5.  Many  of  the  idols  of  the 
heathens  have  not  even  this  to  recommend  them, 
but  are  extremely  disgusting  and  frightful. 

The  palm  tree,  thus  beautiful  in  appearance  and 
valued  for  its  uses,  lives  and  flourishes  to  a  great 
age.  So  Davicr  says  the  righteous  sliall  flourish, 
supported  by  grace  and  bringing  forth  the  fruits  of 
praise  to  God,  and  usefulness  to  their  fellow  men 
men,  Ps.  xcii.  12 — 14;  and  so  Solomon  describes 
the  church,  represented  by  the  spouse.  Sol.  Song 
vii.  7,  8. 

Palm  branches  were  an  emblem  of  victory,  and 
were  carried  before  conquerors  in  triumph.  For  this 
reason  they  were  borne  before  our  Saviour  on  his 
entry  into  Jerusalem,  John  xii.  13;  and  the  saints 
are  represented  as  bearing  them  in  token  of  having 
overcome  their  spiritual  enemies.  Rev.  vii.  9.  They 
were  used  with  other  branches  by  the  Jews  in  the 
feast  of  tabernacles,  as  a  memorial  of  deliverance 
from  their  bondage  in  Egypt.  Lev.  xxiii.  40 ;  Neh. 
viii.  15. 


15 

We  have  here  a  beautiful  and  accurate  engraving 
of  a  wild  palm  tree,  near  Mount  Sinai;  and  is  co- 
pied from  Laborde's  Views  in  Arabia  Petraea. 
Speaking  of  this  interesting  object,  he  says: 

"  What  appeared  to  me  most  worthy  of  notice, 
was  a  palm  tree  in  its  natural  state,  which  we  found 
above  Ouadi  Seleh.  The  palm  tree  is  always  re- 
presented with  its  summit  pointed — its  leaves  bent 
back  and  spreading  over  its  head,  from  whence 
gracefully  hang  dates  as  bright  as  coral ;  and  we 
never  imagine  that  all  this  elegance  is  produced  by 
art,  and  that  nature,  less  refined,  has  only  attended 
to  its  preservation.  At  times,  the  palm  tree  forms 
impenetrable  forests :  more  frequently,  however,  it 
is  found  isolated  near  a  fountain,  as  we  see  in  the 
engraving."  He  adds — "  It  presents  itself  to  the 
thirsty  traveller  like  a  friendly  light-house,  pointing 
out  the  spot  where  water  is  to  be  found,  and  a 
charitable  shade  in  which  to  repose." 


16 


THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS. 

The  man  is  ever  blest, 

Who  shuns  the  sinner's  ways, 
Among^  their  councils  never  stands, 

Nor  takes  the  scorner's  place : 

But  makes  the  law  of  God 

His  study  and  delight, 
Amidst  the  labours  of  the  day, 

And  watches  of  the  night. 

He  like  a  tree  shall  thrive. 

With  waters  near  the  root ; 
Fresh  as  the  leaf  his  name  shall  live  ; 

His  works  are  heavenly  fruit. 

Not  so  th'  ungodly  race  ; 

They  no  sucii  blessings  find  : 
Their  hopes  shall  flee  like  empty  chaff 

Before  the  driving  wind. 

How  will  they  bear  to  stand 

Before  that  judgment  seat. 
Where  all  the  saints  at  Christ's  right  hand 

In  full  assembly  meet] 


17 


THE  BETTER  LAND. 

I  HEAR  thee  speak  of  the  better  land  ; 
Thou  call'st  its  children  a  happy  band  ; 
Mother !  oh  where  is  that  radiant  shore, — 
Shall  we  not  seek  it  and  weep  no  more  ? 
Is  it  where  the  flower  of  the  orange  blows, 
And  the  fire-flies  dance  through  the  myrtle  boughs  1 
"  Not  there,  not  there,  my  child  !" 

Is  it  where  the  feathery  palm-trees  rise, 
And  the  date  grows  ripe  under  sunny  skies, 
Or  'midst  the  green  islands  of  glittering  seas, 
Where  fragrant  forests  perfume  the  breeze, 
And  strange  bright  birds  on  their  starry  wings. 
Bear  the  rich  hues  of  all  glorious  things  ] 
"  Not  there,  not  there,  my  child  !" 

Is  it  far  away,  in  some  region  old. 
Where  the  rivers  wander  o'er  sands  of  gold — 
Where  the  burning  rays  of  the  ruby  shine. 
And  the  diamond  lights  up  the  secret  mine. 
And  the  pearl  gleams  forth  from  the  coral  strand — 
Is  it  there,  sweet  mother,  that  better  land  1 
"Not  there,  not  there,  my  child  !" 
c 


18 


Eye  hath  not  seen  it,  my  gentle  boy  ! 
Ear  hath  not  heard  its  deep  song-s  of  joy, 
Dreams  cannot  picture  a  world  so  fair, 
Sorrow  and  death  may  not  enter  there ; 
Time  doth  not  breathe  on  its  faultless  bloom, 
For  beyond  the  clouds  and  beyond  the  tomb, 
It  is  there,  it  is  there,  my  child  ! 


19 


CONSOLATIONS  AGAINST  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 


And  are  you  very  "weak?  Is  sickness  in  the 
chamber,  and  death  at  the  door?  Come  then,  and 
let  us  sit  down  with  death  and  eternity  in  view ; 
and  encourage  one  another  from  the  word,  the 
precious  word  of  God. 

What  is  there  frightful  in  death,  which  our  ever 
blessed  Redeemer  has  not  taken  away  ?  Do  the 
pangs  of  dissolution  alarm  us?  Should  they  be 
sharp,  they  cannot  be  very  long ;  and  our  exalted 
Lord,  with  whom  are  the  issues  of  death,  knows 
what  dying  agonies  mean.  He  has  said  in  the 
multitude  of  his  tender  mercies,  "  Fear  thou  not, 
for  I  am  with  thee ;  be  not  dismayed,  for  I  am  thy 
God :  I  will  strengthen  thee,  yea  I  will  help  thee  ; 
yea,  I  will  uphold  thee  with  the  right  hand  of  my 
Righteousness."  (Isa.  xJi.  10.)  This  promise 
authorizes  us  to  say  boldly,  "  Yea,  though  I  walk 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will 


20 

fear  no  evil,  for  thou  art  with  me,  thy  rod  and  thy 
staff  they  comfort  me."    (Psalm  xxiii.  4.) 

Are  we  afraid  to  enter  into  a  strange,  invisible 
world?  It  is  the  world  into  which  our  divine  Mas- 
ter is  gone ;  where  he  has  prepared  everlasting 
mansions  (John  xiv.  2.)  for  his  people,  and  has  ap- 
pointed his  angels  to  conduct  us  thither.  (Luke 
xvi.  22.)  Having  such  a  convoy,  what  should  we 
dread ;  and  going  to  our  eternal  home,  where  our 
all-bountiful  Redeemer  is,  why  should  we  be  re- 
luctant ? 

Are  we  concerned,  on  account  of  what  we  leave  ? 
We  leave  the  worse,  to  possess  the  better.  If  we 
leave  our  earthlv  friends,  we  shall  fuid  more  loving 
and  lovely  companions.  We  shall  be  admitted 
among  the  innumerable  com])any  of  angels,  and  to 
the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the  first- born, 
that  are  written  in  heaven.  (Mob.  xii.  22,  23.)  Do 
we  leave  the  ordinances  of  religion,  which  we  have 
attended  with  great  delight  \  Do  we  leave  tiie  word 
of  God,  which  has  been  sweeter  to  our  souls  than 
honey  to  our  moutiis?  We  shall  enter  into  the  Tem- 
ple, not  made  with  hands,  and  join  that  happy  choir 
who  rest  not  day  or  night,  saying,  "  Holy,  Holy, 


21 

Holy,  Lord  God  Almighty,  which  was,  and  is,  and 
is  to  come."  (Rev.  iv.  8.)  And  if  our  Bible  is  no 
more,  we  shall  have  all  which  is  promised,  we  shall 
behold  all  that  is  described  therein.  If  we  drop 
the  map  of  our  heavenly  Canaan,  it  will  be  to  take 
possession  of  its  blissful  territories.  That  "  city 
has  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of  the  moon  to 
shine  in  it ;  for  the  glory  of  God  does  lighten  it, 
and  the  I^amb  is  the  light  thereof."  (Rev.  xxi.  23.) 
Oh !  my  friend,  blessed,  for  ever  blessed  be  the 
grace  of  our  God,  and  the  merits  of  his  Christ !  we 
shall  exchange  the  scanty  stream  for  the  boundless 
ocean;  and  if  we  no  longer  pick  the  first  ripe 
grapes,  we  shall  gather  the  full,  the  abounding,  the 
never  ending  vintage. 

Do  we  fear  the  guilt  of  our  countless  sins  ? 
Adored  be  the  infinite  loving-kindness  of  God  our 
Saviour !  our  sins  have  been  atoned  for  by  the  bless- 
ed Jesus;  the  Lord  laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of  us 
all.  (Isa.  liii.  6.)  "  He  his  own  self  bare  our  sins, 
in  his  own  body  on  the  tree."  (1  Pet.  ii.  24.)  So 
that  "  there  is  no  condemnation  to  them  that  are 
in  Christ  Jesus."  (Rom.  viii.  1.)  Oh  !  that  we  may 
be  enabled  with  the  Apostle  to  make  our  boast  of 


22 

this  Saviour,  and  to  triumph  in  this  faith !  "  Who 
shall  lay  any  thing  to  the  charge  of  God's  elect? 
It  is  God  that  justifieth,  who  is  he,  that  condemn- 
eth?  It  is  Christ  that  died,  yea,  rather,  that  is  risen 
again,  who  is  ever  at  the  right  hand  of  God ;  who 
also  maketh  intercession  for  us." 

Is  judgment  the  thing  that  we  fear?  To  the 
pardoned  sinner  it  has  nothing  terrible.  The  Lord 
Jesus,  who  keeps  his  servants  from  falling,  pre- 
sents them  also  faultless  before  the  presence  of  his 
glory  "  with  exceeding  joy."  (Jude  24.)  Observe 
the  comfortable  expressions,  presents  faultless  and 
with  exceeding  joy.  Justly  therefore  does  the 
Apostle  reckon  it  among  the  privileges  of  the  Chris- 
tians, that  they  are  come  to  God,  "  the  Judge  of 
all."  (Heb.  xii.  23.)  For  the  Judge  is  our  Friend ; 
the  Judge  is  our  Advocate ;  the  Judge  is  our  Pro- 
pitiation ;  the  Judge  is  our  Righteousness.  And  is 
it  not  a  privilege  to  come  to  such  a  Judge,  as  will 
not  so  much  as  mention  our  iniquities  to  us,  but 
condescend  to  take  notice  of  our  poor  unworthy 
services ;  who  sits  on  the  groat  tribunal,  not  to  pass 
the  sentence  of  damnation  upon  us,  but  to  give  us 
a  reward  I  a  reward  of  free  grace,  and  of  bound- 
less richness. 


23 

Let  me  conclude  with  those  charming  words  of 
the  evangeUcal  prophet:  "  Comfort  ye,  comfort  ye, 
my  people,  saith  your  God.  (Isa.  xl.  1,  2.)  Speak 
ye  comfortably  to  Jerusalem  and  cry  unto  her,  that 
her  warfare  is  accomplished,  that  her  iniquity  is 
pardoned ;  for  she  hath  received  of  the  Lord's  hand 
double  for  all  her  sins."  May  the  God  of  our  life  and 
salvation  make  these  Scriptures  unto  us  as  a  staff 
in  the  traveller's  hand,  and  as  a  cordial  to  thd  faint- 
ing heart,  that  we  may  be  strong  in  the  faith  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ. 


24 

THE  PILGRIM  OF  ZION. 

Sad  pilgrim  of  Zion,  though  chasten'd  awhile, 
Through  this  dark  vale  of  tears,  Hope  still  bids  thee  smile ; 
Far  spent  is  the  night, — see  approaching  the  day. 
That  calls  thcc  from  sorrow  and  sighing  away. 

No  tear  of  repentance,  nor  wave  of  the  storm, — 
Not  a  cloud  shall  e'er  darken  the  light  of  that  morn. 
Where  thy  sun  sets  no  more,  but  for  ever  shall  shine 
Unsullied  in  beauty,  in  glory  divine. 

WJiite  thy  robe,  wash'd  in  blood,  the  price  that  was  given 
To  redeem  thee  from  earth,  and  to  raise  thee  to  heaven  ; 
Where  love  blooms  in  peace,  and  blest  joys  feast  thy  sight — 
>       Where  God  is  tliy  glory,  tlio  Lord  thy  delight. 

Oh  pilgrim,  till  then,  be  thou  instant  in  prayer, 
Life's  sorrows  and  pains  thy  Redeemer  will  bear; 
Reposing  in  death,  still  the  love  that  ne'er  dies, 
Siieds  a  light  to  conduct  thee  in  peace  to  the  skies. 


25 


THE  GRAVE  OF  THE  YEAR. 


"  '  The  Grave  of  the  Year  !'  father ;  did  you 
say  'The  Grave  of  the  Year?  Why,  does  the 
year  live  and  die,  like  a  mant  If  it  does,  it  must 
breathe,  and  see,  and  walk,  I  should  think." 

No,  my  child ;  it  may  live,  and  yet  neither 
breathe,  nor  see,  nor  walk.  Did  you  not  tell  me  this 
morning  that  your  geranium  was  dead ;  but  you 
know  that  a  geranium  neither  breathes,  nor  sees, 
nor  walks. 

"  Then  it  was  not  proper  for  me  to  say  it  was 
dead,  I  suppose ;  was  it,  father  ?" 

Yes  it  was,  my  dear,  perfectly  proper  to  say 
so.  We  say  a  flower  lives,  because  it  has  life ;  it 
grows,  it  blooms,  it  fades,  and  falls  to  the  ground 
— and  soon  we  shall  see  no  more  of  it.  The  leaves 
of  spring  come  out  fresh  and  green,  but  in  a  few 
short  months  they  become  yellow,  and  slowly  fall 


26 

to  the  ground  and  perish.  Thus  they  hve  and  die. 
It  is  said  of  man  that  he  cometh  forth  Uke  a  flower, 
(Job  xiv.  2.)  The  infancy  of  man  is  his  budding 
lime.  In  childhood  and  youth  he  puts  out  the  ten- 
der leaf  and  the  gay  blossom.  In  manhood  we 
look  for  fruit,  to  repay  the  culture  of  earlier  years. 
But,  in  a  little  while,  his  strength  and  beauty  fade 
away — he  becomes  a  feeble,  tottering  old  man,  and 
soon  passes  into  the  grave,  and  is  seen  no  more. 

Now  the  year  seems  to  pass  through  just  such 
changes  as  these.  In  spring  all  is  life,  and  gaiety, 
and  animation.  You  know  how  fresh  and  beauti- 
ful the  spring  morning  is,  when  the  air  is  filled  with 
the  music  of  birds  and  the  fragrance  of  flowers; 
and  life  is  seen  springing  up  in  the  tender  grass,  or 
bursting  forth  from  the  swollen  bud.  This  is  the 
infancy  or  seed-time  of  the  year.  The  summer  is 
its  youth,  in  which  the  husbandman  looks  about 
upon  his  rich  fields,  and  sees  the  promise  of  a  fu- 
ture harvest.  Then  comes  autumn,  or  the  man- 
hood of  the  year,  when  the  fruits  of  the  earth  are 
gathered  in  and  laid  up  in  store  for  man  and  beast. 
And  now  the  frosts,  "  the  killing  frosts,"  spread 
dreariness  and  gloom  over  the  forests  and  fields : 


27 

and  the  snow  soon  appears  on  the  mountains,  Uke  the 
silver  locks  upon  the  old  man's  head.  And  then 
the  new-born  year  opens  upon  us,  and  we  look  for- 
ward again  to  the  spring-time  of  life  and  joy.  And 
where  is  the  year  whose  progress  we  just  now 
traced  ?  Alas !  it  has  gone — never,  never  to  re- 
turn. Not  one  of  its  ten  thousand  precious  mo- 
ments can  be  recalled.  It  is  buried  m  the  grave 
OF  THE  PAST.  We  look  back  upon  it  as  upon  the 
life  of  some  departed  friend,  whose  face  we  shall 
see  and  whose  voice  we  shall  hear  no  more.  We 
remember  a  thousand  things  done  that  ought  not 
to  have  been  done,  and  ten  thousand  things  left 
undone  that  ought  to  have  been  done;  but  the  op- 
portunity has  past,  and  we  can  show  our  penitence 
only  by  more  diligence  for  the  time  to  come. 

When  we  stand  over  the  grave  of  a  beloved 
parent  or  relative,  and  remember  any  neglect  or 
unkindness  which  we  have  shown  to  them  in  their 
life-time,  we  are  filled  with  sorrow,  especially  when 
we  think  that  there  is  no  longer  any  opportunity  to 
confess  our  fault  and  obtain  forgiveness. 

So  it  should  be  in  the  review  of  the  past.  We 
may  think  of  ourselves  as  standing  over  the  grave 


28 

OF  THE  DEPARTED  YEAR,  and  Calling  to  mind  the 
hours  and  days  we  have  wasted,  the  duties  we 
have  neglected,  the  mercies  we  have  abused,  and 
the  opportunities  to  do  and  to  get  good  which  we 
have  misimproved.  The  thought  that  the  time  we 
should  have  valued  so  much  is  past  and  gone  for 
ever,  must  fill  a  serious  mind  with  deep  sorrow. 

My  dear  child,  before  another  year  shall  have 
flown  by,  you  may  stand  over  my  grave,  or  I  may 
stand  over  yours,  or  both  of  us  may  sleep,  side  by 
side,  beneath  the  clods  of  the  earth.  Let  us  work 
then  TO-DAY,  while  it  is  called  to-day  ;  and  may 
God  teach  us  so  to  number  our  days  that  we  may 
apply  our  hearts  to  wisdom. 

I  will  read  you  a  beautiful  jMCce  of  poetry  on 
this  subject,  which  I  think  you  can  understand.  It 
is  called 

THE      GRAVE      OF      THE      YEAR. 

Written  on  the  31s/  of  Dec. 

Be  composed  every  toil  and  each  turbulent  motion 
That  encircle  the  heart  in  life's  treacherous  snares, 

And  the  hour  that  invites  to  the  calm  of  devotion 
Undisturbed  by  regrets,  unencumbered  with  cares. 

k.     ■  .. 


29 

How  cheerless  the  late  blooming  face  of  creation ; 

Weary  Time  seems  to  pause  in  his  rapid  career, 
And,  fatigued  with  the  work  of  his  own  desolation, 

Looks  behind  with  a  smile — on  the  grave  of  the  year. 

Hark !  the  wind  whistles  rudely — the  shadows  are  closing, 

Tliat  enwrap  his  broad  path  in  the  mantle  of  night; 
While  pleasure's  gay  sons  are  in  quiet  reposing, 

Undismayed  at  the  wrecks  that  have  numbered  his  flight. 
From  yon  temple  where  fashion's  bright  tapers  are  lighted, 

Her  vot'ries  in  crowds,  decked  with  garlands,  appear, 
And  (as  yet  their  gay  hopes  by  no  spectres  affrighted) 

Assemble  to  dance  round  the  grave  of  the  year. 

Oh !  I  hate  the  stale  cup  which  the  idlers  have  tasted, 

When  I  think  on  the  ills  of  life's  comfortless  day — 
How  the  flowers  of  my  childhood  their  verdure  have  wasted. 

And  the  friends  of  my  youth  have  been  taken  away. 
They  think  not  how  fruitless  the  warmest  endeavour 

To  recall  the  kind  moments,  neglected  when  near, 
When  the  hours  that  oblivion  has  cancelled  for  ever, 

Are  interred,  by  her  hand,  in  the  grave  of  the  year. 

Since  the  last  solemn  reign  of  this  day  of  reflection, 
Wliat  throngs  have  relinquished  life's  perishing  breath  ; 

How  many  have  shed  their  last  tear  of  dejection, 
And  closed  their  dim  eye  in  the  darkness  of  death  : 


30 


How  many  have  sudden  their  pilgrimage  ended 
Beneath  the  low  pall  that  envelops  their  bier, 

Or  to  Death's  lonesome  valley  have  slowly  descended, 
And  made  their  cold  beds  with  the  grave  of  the  year. 

'Tis  the  year  that  so  late  its  new  beauties  disclosmg, 

Rose  bright  on  the  happy,  the  careless  and  gay, 
Who  now  on  their  pillows  of  dust  are  reposing. 

Where  the  sod  presses  damp  on  their  bosoms  of  clay. 
Then  talk  not  of  bliss  wliile  her  smile  is  expiring, 

Disappointment  still  drowns  it  in  misery's  tear: 
Reflect  and  be  wise,  for  the  day  is  retiring, 

And  to-morrow  will  dawn  on  the  grave  of  the  year. 

Yet  awhile  and  no  seasons  around  us  will  flourish, 

But  silence  for  each  her  dark  mansion  prepare, 
Where  beauty  no  longer  her  roses  shall  nourish, 

Nor  the  lily  o'erspread  the  wan  cheek  of  despair: 
But  the  eye  shall  witli  lustre  unfading  be  brightened. 

When  it  wakes  to  true  bliss  in  yon  orient  sphere. 
By  sunbeams  and  splendour  immortal  enlightened, 

Which  no  more  shall  go  down  on  the  grave  of  the  year. 


31 


THE  HOPE  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN. 

If  all  our  hopes  and  all  our  fears 

Were  prisoned  in  life's  narrow  bound ; 
If,  travellers  through  this  vale  of  tears, 

We  saw  no  better  world  beyond  ; 
O  what  could  check  the  rising  sigh, 

What  earthly  thing  could  pleasure  give  ? 
O  who  would  venture  then  to  die — 

O  who  could  then  endure  to  live  1 

Were  life  a  dark  and  desert  moor, 

Where  mists  and  clouds  eternal  spread 
Their  gloomy  veil  behind,  before, 

And  tempests  thunder  overhead : 
Where  not  a  sunbeam  breaks  the  gloom, 

And  not  a  floweret  smiles  beneath : 
Who  could  exist  in  such  a  tomb — 

Who  dwell  in  darkness  and  in  deatli  1 

And  such  were  life,  witliout  the  ray 
From  our  divine  religion  given : 

'Tis  this  that  makes  our  darkness  day ; 
'Tis  this  that  makes  our  earth  a  heaven. 


32 

Bright  is  the  golden  sun  above, 

And  beautiful  the  flowers  that  bloom, 

And  all  is  joy,  and  all  is  love, 
Reflected  from  a  world  to  come. 


A  REAL  OCCURRENCE  IN  A  CIRCLE  OF  FRIENDS. 

Which  is  the  happiest  death  to  die  1 

"Oh!"  said  one,  "  if  I  might  choose, 
Long  at  the  gate  of  bliss  would  I  lie, 
And  feast  my  spirit  ere  it  fly. 

With  bright  celestial  views. 
Mine  were  a  lingering  death,  without  pain, 
A  death  which  all  might  love  to  see. 
And  mark  how  bright  and  sweet  should  be 
The  victory  I  should  gain  ! 

Fain  would  I  catch  a  hymn  of  love 
From  the  angel-harps  which  ring  above : 
And  sing  it  as  my  parting  breath 
Quivered  and  expired  in  death — 
So  that  those  on  earth  might  hear 
The  harp-notf  of  another  sphere. 
And  mark,  when  nature  faints  and  dies, 
What  springs  of  heavenly  life  arise, 


33 

And  gatlier,  from  the  death  tliey  view, 
A  ray  of  hope  to  light  them  through, 
When  they  should  be  departing  too." 

"  No,"  said  another,  "  so  not  I : 

Sudden  as  thought  is  the  deatii  I  would  die ; 

I  would  suddenly  lay  my  shackles  by. 

Nor  bear  a  single  pang  at  parting. 

Nor  see  the  tear  of  sorrow  starting. 

Nor  hear  the  quivering  lips  that  bless  me, 

Nor  feel  the  hands  of  love  that  press  me, 

Nor  the  frame,  with  mortal  terror  shaking, 

Nor  the  heart,  where  love's  soft  bands  are  breaking. 
So  would  I  die  ! 

All  bliss,  without  a  pang  to  cloud  it ! 

All  joy,  without  a  pain  to  shroud  it  I 

Not  slain,  but  caught  up  as  it  were, 

To  meet  my  Saviour  in  the  air ! 
So  would  I  die  ! 

Oh !  how  bright 

Were  the  realms  of  light 

Bursting  at  once  upon  the  sight. 

Even  so, 

I  long  to  go, 

These  parting  hours,  how  sad  and  slow  !" 

His  voice  grew  faint,  and  fix'd  was  his  eye, 
As  if  gazing  on  visions  of  ecstasy  ; 
£ 


34    *  *     • 

The  hue  of  his  cheek  and  lips  decayed, 
Around  his  mouth  a  sweet  smile  played  ; — 

They  look'd — he  was  dead  ! 

His  spirit  had  fled : 
Painless  and  swift  as  his  own  desire, 

The  soul  undressed, 

From  her  mortal  vest, 
Had  stepp'd  in  her  car  of  heavenly  fire :  ^ 

And  proved  how  bright  . .  "' ' 

Were  the  realms  of  light  .        • 

Bursting  at  once  upon  the  sight ! 


35 


WHAT  A  CHILD  CAN  DO  FOR  THE  HEATHEN. 
(by  a  school-girl.) 


PART  I. 

How  can  a  Child  do  good  to  the  Heathen  without  Money? 

"  How  can  I  do  good  to  the  heathen  without  mo- 
ney?" and,  "  How  can  I  get  money  with  which  to 
do  good  to  them  ?"  are  questions  over  which  I  used 
often  to  ponder.  I  had,  from  different  causes,  be- 
come strongly  interested  for  the  poor,  dark  idolater. 
But  my  parents  had  never  approved  or  adopted  in 
our  large  family  the  plan  of  giving  money  to  the 
children.  I  think  they  were  in  the  right,  but  we  will 
not  discuss  that  now.  Well,  I  had  no  money  then 
to  give  to  the  missionary  societies,  so  I  tried  to 
think  what  good  to  the  cause  I  could  do  without  it. 
Perhaps  some  of  the  young  readers  of  this  little 
book  may  be  in  the  same  situation  with  myself;  let 
us  see  then  what  we  could  do. 


Our  distance  from  the  heathen  prevents  us  from 
employing  the  means  we  could  ordinarily  use  to 
lead  souls  to  the  knowledge  and  love  of  the  Sa- 
viour. We  cannot  teach  or  persuade  them,  or  even 
set  before  their  eyes  a  holy  and  consistent  example. 
But  there  are  men  who  are  willing  to  go  all  the 
way  to  them,  to  leave  their  native  shores,  and,  in  a 
heathen  land,  spend  all  their  time  in  publishing  to 
sinful  men  the  gospel  of  God's  grace.  Such  men 
will  do  that  work  which  we  are  unable  to  accom- 
plish, if  they  can  be  sent  out  and  supported  by 
Christian  people.  You  and  I  have  no  money  to  give 
to  defray  their  expenses  and  assist  them  in  their  great 
work.  Our  duty  then  is,  to  use  all  our  influence 
with  others  in  this  cause,  to  lead  those  who  have 
the  means  to  aid  the  heathen  and  the  missionary. 
Perhaps  some  of  you  do  not  know  exactly  how  to 
do  this.     A  few  examples  will  easily  explain. 

Louisa  Gillod's  father  came  home  from  his 
business  on  a  freezing  winter  evening.  Cold  and 
fatigued,  he  was  glad  to  draw  his  comfortable  arm 
chair  close  to  the  bright  coal  fire.  "  It  will  be  half 
an  hour  before  tea,"  said  his  wife ;  "  the  cook  has 
gone  out,  so  I  must  go  down  and  see  about  getting 


37 

it,"  and  sne  left  the  room.  The  astral  lamp  was 
burning  on  the  table,  and  Louisa  was  sitting  on  a 
stool  by  her  father. 

"  Well  then,  my  daughter,"  said  he,  "  I  would 
like  you  to  read  aloud  to  me  this  half  hour." 

"  What  would  you  like  to  hear  ]"    asked  Louisa. 

"  Any  thing  that's  interesting,"  was  the  reply. 

Now  Louisa  knew  that  her  father  scarcely  ever 
thought  of  religion,  or  any  thing  connected  with  it; 
but  she  knew  also  that  he  was  a  sensible  and  feel- 
ing man ;  so  bearing  in  mind  the  poor  heathen, 
whom  her  pious  mother  had  taught  her  to  pity,  she 
ventured  to  commence  a  very  interesting  extract 
from  Ellis's  account  of  the  Sandwich  Islanders. 
Mr.  Gillod's  attention  was  engaged.  After  tea,  he 
commenced  the  regular  reading  of  the  book. 
Evening  after  evening  he  took  it  up  and  read. 
He  was  much  struck  with  its  contents;  and  when 
he  had  finished  he  said,  "  That  really  he  did  not 
know  or  trouble  himself  much  about  either  heathen 
or  missionaries  before,  but  that  if  those  were  the 
kind  of  things  they  were,  and  the  kind  of  things 
they  did,  the  societies  ought  to  be  encouraged." 
Each  month  afterwards  his  name  was  on  the  sub- 

385828 


;y 


38 

scription  paper  for  the  Foreign  Missionary  So- 
ciety. 

George  Nugent,  on  the  first  Monday  of  five  suc- 
cessive months,  succeeded  in  persuading  iiis  family 
to  attend  the  Monthly  Concert  of  Prayer,  which 
they  had  before  always  forgotten  or  neglected. 
They  are  now  much  interested  in  the  cause  of  the 
heathen,  always  attend  the  Monthly  Concert,  and, 
although  the  father  is  only  a  poor  shoemaker,  and 
the  mother  and  daughter,  who  take  in  plain  sew- 
ing, have  but  few  employers,  the  three  together 
give  yearly  fifteen  dollars  to  the  Board  of  Domes- 
tic Missions,  and  twenty-five  to  the  Board  of 
Foreign  Missions — forty  dollars  in  all ! 

Eliza  Randall  goes  to  school  where  the  scholars 
sew  two  hours  in  the  afternoon.  Each  one,  in  her 
turn,  reads  aloud  to  the  others.  They  may  take 
whatever  they  please  for  perusal ;  the  teacher,  of 
course,  first  looks  over  what  is  to  be  read.  To-day 
it  is  Eliza's  turn  to  read,  and  she  has  carried  the 
"  Missionary  Herald"  with  her  to  school.  She  has 
taken  this  means  of  interesting  her  companions  in 
the  cause  of  missions. 

Mary  Lansing's  friend,  Laura,  is  the  orphan 


39 

ward  of  a  fond  old  grandfather.  She  has  a  great 
deal  of  pocket  money,  for  he  allows  her  a  dollar 
every  week.  How  often  have  I  heard  Mary  beg 
Laura  to  remember  the  heathen  idolater,  and  not 
spend  so  much  for  cakes  and  candy. 

But  here  comes  Mary  into  the  room.  She  says, 
that  Laura  told  her  to-day  that  she  meant  to  put 
aside  thirty-three  cents  every  week  for  the  heathen. 
Though  Laura  is  a  wild  girl,  a  spoiled  child,  as 
every  body  says,  yet  I  never  knew  her  to  break 
her  word.  So  Mary  will  have  been  the  means  of 
bringing  an  annual  tribute  of  thirteen  dollars  into 
the  Lord's  treasury. 

Emily  Fisher  is  now  twelve  years  old.  From 
her  sixth  to  her  ninth  year  her  parents  lived  in 
England,  while  she  staid  with  an  aunt  in  America. 
Every  fortnight  her  mother  expected  to  hear  from 
her  by  the  packet  ship.  So  Emily  had  to  write  a 
great  many  letters.  Both  her  mother  and  her  aunt 
were  very  particular  about  the  rules  of  orthogra- 
phy and  grammar.  By  this  continual  practice, 
she  gained  a  facility  and  propriety  in  expressing 
her  ideas  quite  uncommon  in  a  child  of  her  age. 
When,  on  her  parents'  return,  she  went  to  school, 


40 


the  easy  style  and  the  correctness  of  her  composi- 
tions were  observed  and  praised.  Emily's  parents 
are  both  pious,  and  for  the  last  year  we  have  hoped 
that  Emily  is  pious  too ;  for  she  has  changed  much 
in  many  things.  And  in  proportion  as  she  has  be- 
come interested  in  behalf  of  her  own  soul,  has  she 
become  interested  in  behalf  of  those  millions  of  souls 
who  know  nothing  of  Christ  and  his  salvation. 

Well,  how  does  Emily  do  good  ?  She  has  not 
any  money.  She  does  good  with  that  which  she 
has,  with  the  talents  which  God  has  given  her.  At 
the  school  which  she  attends,  the  scholars'  compo- 
sitions are  read  aloud  to  them  every  Friday  after- 
noon. Yesterday  Emily  gave  one  in,  entitled 
"77ie  Poor  Hindoo  Child.'"  She  brought  it  to  me 
before,  to  know  if  there  was  any  thing  exaggerated 
or  improbable  in  it.  No — it  was  but  a  trite  picture; 
yet  one  to  which  lam  sure  few  of  the  scholars  can 
attend  on  Friday,  without  feeling  a  deep  compas- 
sion for  the  thousand  benighted  suflerers  who  are 
at  this  moment  living  witnesses  to  the  truth  of  the 
description — or  without  being  obliged  seriously  to 
consider  the  concluding  sentence:  "My  dear  school- 
fellows, can  none  of  us  do  any  thing  towards  stop- 


41 

ping  this  tide  of  misery?  *  Why  sit  ye  here  all  the 
day  idle?'  " 

But  I  have  not  yet  mentioned  the  most  important 
way  by  which  many  do,  all  can,  and  all  ought  to 
do  good  to  the  heathen,  whether  they  have  money 
or  not:  it  is  by  praying  for  them. 

Our  Saviour  is  as  willing  and  desirous  that  chil- 
dren should  approach  him  now,  as  he  was  when  on 
earth.  He  then  said,  "  Suffer  little  children  to 
come  unto  me;"  and  can  there  be  any  object  for 
which  he  will  be  more  willing  to  hear  you,  more 
ready  to  answer  you,  than  that  one  for  which  he 
himself  lived,  laboured,  died  ?  And  yet  have  we 
not  all  reason  to  ask  ourselves  how  we  have  per- 
formed this  duty?  Has  not  our  desire  been  to  do 
something  grand,  (grand  for  us,)  something  that 
will  show,  something  upon  which  we  can  pride 
ourselves,  instead  of  having  simply  a  warm,  fer- 
vent, sincere  wish  that  God's  kingdom  may  come, 
and  his  will  be  done,  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven? 
How  many  of  us  have  often  repeated  the  Lord's 
prayer,  thy  kivgdom  come,  without  one  thought  of 
the  heathen,  one  glance  at  a  world  lying  in  wicked- 
ness.    Oh,  let  us  resolve  that  from  this  time  the 

r 


42 

duty  oi praying  for  the  heathen  shall  be  oftener  and 
better  performed. 

And  now,  we  will  leave  off  talking,  and  go  about 
acting.  Yet  I  have  one  more  word  to  say.  I  have 
all  along  taken  it  for  granted,  that  each  one  of  our 
little  circle,  (for  I  have  fancied  us  all  gathered  in  a 
circle,)  that  each  one  of  us  is  interested  in  the  ob- 
ject. We  must  take  a  little  pains  to  preserve  this 
interest.  We  must  keep  up  and  accumulate  know- 
ledge respecting  these  heathen  people  themselves, 
the  success  of  the  missionaries,  and  their  peculiar 
wants,  trials,  and  circumstances. 

And  now  good-bye,  but  think  over  what  has  been 
said,  and  each  one  of  you  choose  what  you  can,  or 
rather  what  you  irill  do,  for  the  heathen,  while  yet 
widiout  any  money.  > 


TAUT  II. 

How  can  a  Child  raise  Money  for  the  Heathen  1 

And  so,  my  young  friends,  we  have  come  toge- 
ther again,  to  learn  more  about  doing  good  to  the 
heathen.     The  last  time  we  met,  we  saw  some 


43 

ways  in  which  we  might  influence  others  to  give 
money  to  promote  the  spread  of  Christianity  in  the 
world.  We  can  pray,  too,  for  this  object.  But  we 
must  not  rest  contented  here.  This  is  not  all  that  we 
can  do.  We  must  give  something  ourselves.  But 
you  say,  "I  have  no  money  to  give."  You  wish 
very  much  that  you  had,  but  father  and  mother  do 
not  give  you  any  allowance.  None  of  us,  perhaps, 
have  more  than  a  quarter  or  half  of  a  dollar,  and 
some  only  a  few  cents.  With  us  the  great  question 
then  is,  How  shall  we  get  money  for  this  purpose? 
We  cannot  read  of  all  the  misery  of  heathenism, 
of  all  the  blessings  of  Christianity — and  then  hear 
the  diflerent  missionary  societies  and  missionaries, 
and  even  iieathen  people  themselves,  represent  their 
wants,  and  call  aloud  for  aid,  without  deeply  re- 
gretting our  inability  to  help  them.  Shall  we  not 
each  then  seriously,  earnestly  consider  the  ques- 
tion. How  can  I  raise  money  for  the  heathen? 

How  can  we?     Let  us  think. 

Is  there  no  little  thing  to  which  we  have  been 
accustomed  which  we  can  deny  ourselves,  and 
the  value  of  which  we  can  receive  in  money?  I 
should  think  we  might  all,  with  the  consent  of  our 


44 

parents,  adopt  the  plan  of  the  young  Lawrences. 
They  neither  drink  tea  nor  cofTee.  Each  has  a 
tumbler  of  clear  water  (which,  by  the  by,  is  the  best 
thing  any  one  could  have)  set  on  the  table  for  them 
at  morning  and  evening  meals.  So  there  is  saved 
among  the  three  a  good  deal  of  milk  and  sugar, 
besides  the  tea  and  coflee,  qnite  the  worth  of  the 
ten  cents  which  their  mother  gives  to  each  one 
every  week  in  return.  The  Lawrences  are  my 
cousins,  but  I  should  never  have  known  about  this 
arrangement  had  I  not  discovered  it  while  staying 
at  their  house,  for  they  never  speak  of  it  themselves; 
and  I  hope  that  any  of  you  who  may  adopt  their 
way  of  saving  money,  or  any  other  like  it,  will  fol- 
low their  example  in  this  particular. 

I  knew  another  child  who  used  to  go  without 
butter,  and  received  instead  the  price  of  the  quan- 
tity she  would  have  eaten,  say  six  and  a  quarter 
cents  a  week. 

*'  But  these  sums  are  so  small,"  perhaps  you  say, 
"  they  seein  scarcely  worth  the  trouble  of  earning," 
You  forget,  however,  that  sixpence  a  week  amounts 
to  three  dollars  and  a  quarter  in  a  year.  But  T  do 
not  suppose  that  you  will  keep  collecting  it  till  the 


45 

end  of  the  twelve  months.  You  perhaps  put  one 
week's  earning  into  a  collection  taken  up  at  church 
for  the  missionary  society.  From  that  society  it  is 
sent  to  China.  There  it  will  defray  the  expense  of 
printing  at  least  two  or  three  pages  of  gospel  truth 
in  the  native  language.  This,  with  others,  is  given 
into  the  hands  of  a  missionary.  By  the  Chinese 
people,  books  are  much  sought  after  and  esteem- 
ed; and  whenever  the  missionary,  as  he  passes 
through  the  country,  brings  forth  his  books,  multi- 
tudes gather  round  him  to  hear  and  to  receive. 
As  he  reads,  the  words  fall  upon  the  ears  of  many 
— in  some,  perhaps,  they  reach  the  heart.  Yes ! 
who  knows  to  how  many  they  may  prove  the 
power  of  God  unto  salvation.  But  the  usefulness 
of  the  books  does  not  stop  here.  One  person  hands 
the  precious  gift  to  another,  and  he  to  another,  and 
so  the  little  volume  travels  on,  and  on,  from  village 
to  village,  and  from  city  to  city,  penetrates  into  the 
very  heart  of  the  heatlien  nation,  and  thence  over 
rivers  and  plains,  until  it  reaches  even  the  wild  up- 
lands of  Tartary.  Along  its  track  it  has  kindled  a 
line  of  gospel  light,  which  may  gladden  many  souls 
in  the  places  where,  for  many  and  many  an  age, 


46 

the  people  have  sat  in  darkness.  Your  little  mite 
may  be  the  means  of  accomplishing  such  results  as 
these.  And  can  you  still  think  it  unworthy  of  you 
to  earn  and  to  give  something  towards  the  salva- 
tion of  men  ? 

But  let  us  return  to  the  question,  How  shall  we 
raise  money  for  the  heathen  ?  And  now,  if  you 
will  imagine  that  it  is  a  bright  summer  morning, 
just  five  o'clock,  and  that  you  are  walking  with  me 
to  Mrs.  Carrol's  house,  I  will  show  you  a  way  to 
earn  it.  Here  we  are  at  the  door.  Let  us  go  up 
stairs,  to  the  back  room  in  the  third  story.  Now, 
peep  in  there,  and  you  will  see  little  Ellen,  at  this 
early  hour,  closely  engaged  with  her  needle.  No- 
tice the  expression  of  happiness  beaming  in  her 
countenance.  She  has  thrown  open  the  window, 
and  the  fresh  morning  air,  as  it  breathes  over  the 
hill  on  which  the  house  is  situated,  is  delightful. 
Her  eyes  stray  for  a  moment  from  her  fingers  to 
the  waking  city  beneath,  and  the  green  velvet  slope 
beyond,  the  browsing  cattle,  the  opening  fiow'ers, 
and  the  fluttering  birds,  who  are  sounding  their 
early  carols  from  the  gardens  and  hills  around. 
But  she  soon  returns  to  her  work  with  readiness 


47 

and  pleasure.  As  all  seems  bright  and  happy 
without,  so  Ellen  within  is  bright  and  happy  too. 
I  say  she  feels  bright — for  although  she  rose  at  four 
o'clock,  she  is  not  sleepy:  she  went  to  bed  at  eight; 
and  she  is  happy,  for  she  is  engaged  in  an  employ- 
ment which  gives  her  great  delight.  8he  is  work- 
ing for  the  heathen.  Those  shirts  she  is  making 
are  fo-r  a  brother  at  the  south.  Her  mother  was 
going  to  put  them  out  to  be  done ;  but  Ellen, 
anxious  to  gain  money  for  her  favourite  object, 
begged  leave  to  rise  and  work  on  them  before  break- 
fast, and  receive  the  pay  of  the  sempstress.  She 
w^orks  for  her  mother  all  the  rest  of  the  day,  and 
having  no  other  time  which  she  can  call  her  own, 
she  willingly  sacrifices  these  two  hours  of  unneces- 
sary sleep  for  a  purpose  so  much  beloved.  Can 
none  of  us  follow  her  plan? 

But  go  to  the  next  house,  and  knock  at  the  door 
of  her  friend,  Sarah  Ward.  You  will  find  her  busy 
too,  and  with  her  brothers,  Charles  and  Edward, 
sitting  at  the  round  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 
It  is  strewed  with  paints,  and  plates  rubbed  all  over 
with  colours,  and  there  are  three  piles  of  picture 
books.     They  are  colouring  the  prints.     Do  you 


48 

see?  Their  father  procured  the  pictures  from  a 
bookseller  for  them  to  paint,  and  he  will  pay  them 
a  dollar  and  a  quarter  for  every  hundred  sheets 
they  colour.  They  will  each  paint  ten  sheets  be- 
fore breakfast,  or,  if  not  so  soon,  before  school-time. 
They  are  doing  this,  so  that  they  can  put  their 
names  upon  the  church  subscription  paper,  and  so 
be  able,  every  month,  to  give  regularly  to  the  cause 
of  missions.  My  young  friends,  can  none  of  us  fol- 
low their  plan  of  raising  money? 

And  now  it  is  time  that  we  should  turn  to  go 
home;  but  before  we  separate,  we  must  think  of 
some  other  ways  in  which  children  like  ourselves 
can  gain  money  for  the  heathen.  Some  of  us,  per- 
haps, can  do  like  Henry  Somers.  He  lives  in  New 
York,  where  the  gardens  are  generally  small.  His 
father's  yard  is  rather  larger  than  usual,  so  that  he 
gave  Henry  a  piece  of  the  wide  border  for  his  own. 
As  Henry  was  one  day  thinking  how  he  could  raise 
money,  he  formed  this  plan,  to  which  both  of  his 
parents  agreed.  It  was  to  cultivate  and  sell  common 
vegetables,  such  as  beets,  carrots,  and  radishes,  in 
his  little  garden.  His  father  gave  him  the  neces- 
sary seeds,  and  his  mother  promised  to  let  the 


%. 


«;^ 


49 

servant  boy  carry  the  produce  to  market  to  be 
there  disposed  of.  Almost  any  morning  or  evening 
Henry  may  now  be  seen  digging,  weeding,  or  wa- 
tering his  ground.  Sometimes  inchnation  strongly 
urges  him  to  stay  to  play  with  his  companions  in 
the  ev^ening,  and  to  neglect  to  water  the  plants, 
which  had  been  scorched  all  day  by  the  hot  sun ; 
and  sometimes  indolence  begs  most  piteously  for 
farther  repose,  when  he  is  wakened  early  to  gather 
his  plants,  and  tie  them  in  bundles,  ready  for  mar- 
ket, before  the  sun  shall  become  bright  and  pow- 
erful. But  self-denial  and  exertion,  coupled  with 
much  patience  and  perseverance,  are  necessary 
for  one  who  intends  to  do  good. 

Well !  is  thei'e  nothing  like  this  that  ice  can  do  ? 
I  say  like  this,  for  in  bringing  forward  these  par- 
ticular cases,  I  do  not  in  the  least  intend  to  imply 
that  they  are  the  only  methods  which  we  are  to 
try.  We  must  each  think  over  our  own  situation, 
and  all  its  circumstances — the  practicability  of 
these  schemes,  and  what  others  would  be  more  use- 
ful, more  pleasant,  or  more  expedient ;  and  espe- 
cially must  we  regard  the  feelings  of  our  parents, 

G 


5^ 

There  are  many  things  to  be  considered  in  choos- 
ing in  what  way  to  raise  money  for  the  heathen. 

There  is  another  most  efiectual  method  of  ac- 
complishing this  object  which  I  have  not  yet  men- 
tioned, but  with  which  all  of  you  are  probably 
more  or  less  acquainted.  It  is  that  of  joining  in 
juvenile  societies,  to  meet  and  make  needle  or  fancy 
work  for  sale.  In  many  respects  this  is  a  most  ex- 
cellent way  for  children  to  earn  money. 

But,  as  I  said  before,  it  is  time  that  we  should 
separate ;  so  I  will  not  dwell  on  this  subject.  It  is 
sufficient  that  I  remind  you,  that  there  is  scarcely 
any  way  in  which  you  can  be  more  useful  in  gain- 
ing money  for  the  heathen,  than  by  becoming  a 
regular  and  industrious  member  of  a  missionary 
sewing  society. 

And  now,  my  young  friends,  if  any  of  you  have 
felt  as  though  you  could  do  nothing  for  the  heathen, 
and  have  been  sad  at  the  thought,  cast  away  the 
idea  at  once.  Though  you  are  nothing  but  a  child, 
a  very  young  child  perhaps,  you  surely  must  be 
convinced  that  you  can  do  something.  You  have 
seen  how  much  you  may  accomplish  by  influenc- 


*•: 


51 

ing  and  interesting  others  in  the  cause  of  the 
heathen ;  how  much  you  are  encouraged  to  pray 
for  them ;  and  how  many  means  you  can  devise 
of  obtaining  money,  to  aid  more  directly  in  send- 
ing to  them  the  gospel  and  happiness.  "  If  ye 
know  these  things,  happy  are  ye  if  ye  do  them." 


.!♦ 


52 


UNCERTAINTY  OF  LIFE. 

Like  crowded  forest  trees  we  stand, 
And  some  are  mark'd  to  fall : 

The  axe  will  smite  at  God's  command, 
And  soon  shall  smite  us  all. 

Green  as  the  bay-tree,  ever  green, 

With  its  new  foliage  on. 
The  gay,  the  thoughtless,  have  I  seen  ; 

I  passed,  and  they  were  gone. 

Read,  ye  that  run,  the  awful  truth. 
With  which  I  charge  my  page ; 

A  worm  is  in  the  bud  of  youth, 
And  at  the  root  of  age. 

No  present  health  can  health  ensure 

For  yet  an  hour  to  come  ; 
No  med'cine,  though  it  oft  can  cure. 

Can  always  balk  the  tomb. 

Then  let  us  fly,  to  Jesus  fly, 
Whose  powerful  arm  can  save ; 

So  shall  our  hopes  ascend  on  higli. 
And  triumph  o'er  the  grave. 


53 


FUNERAL  OF  A  LOST  SOUL. 


A  FEW  days  since  I  attended  the  funeral  of  one 
of  my  neighbours,  who  had  suddenly  died  of  a 
disease  of  the  heart.  He  was  sitting  at  a  table 
loaded  with  luxuries,  and  rejoicing  amid  his  family 
and  guests,  when,  involuntarily  throwing  himself 
back,  he  gasped  and  expired.  Great  consternation 
and  distress  ensued.  He  was  a  man  of  no  small 
consequence  in  the  sphere  in  which  he  moved. 
Riches  had  been  lavished  upon  him,  so  that  he  had 
a  great  establishment  and  numerous  dependents. 
But  he  had  forgotten  God.  The  Sabbath  had  been 
to  him  and  his  household  a  day  of  recreation  and 
pleasure.  In  the  morning,  if  the  weather  was  fair, 
they  usually  appeared  in  the  house  of  God  with 
mucli  pomp  and  pride;  but  the  rest  of  the  day  was 
spent  in  feasting  and  mirth.  His  own  hand  had 
gotten  him  his  wealth,  and  he  thanked  God  that  he 


54 

had  much  goods  laid  up  for  many  years.  But  in 
an  unexpected  moment  he  passed  to  the  judgment 
seat.  The  preparation  for  his  funeral  was  truly 
magnificent.  And  when  the  procession  moved 
from  his  mansion,  I  could  not  but  think  of  the 
remark  made  respecting  the  Earl  of  Chesterfield, 
that  nothing  could  have  been  more  gratifying  to 
the  pride  of  his  heart,  than  to  have  looked  out  of 
his  coffin  and  seen  the  respect  which  was  paid  to 
his  memory.  It  was  indeed  "the  icy  pomp,  with 
which  grandeur  mourned  magnificently  over  de- 
parted pride."  I  returned  to  my  home  with  many 
solemn,  and,  I  trust,  profitable  reflections  on 
human  life.  On  entering  my  room,  I  cast  my  eye 
on  an  old  English  Bible,  in  the  black  letter,  which 
lay  open  on  my  table ;  I  was  struck  with  the 
account  of  the  rich  man,  who  was  clothed  in  pur- 
ple and  fine  linen,  and  fared  sumptuously  every 
day,  particularly  with  the  mention  of  his  burial ; 
it 'being  somewhat  dillcrent  from  our  common 
translation,  the  rich  maiv  also  died  and  in  hklle 
HE  WAS  BURIED.  Buricd  in  hell !  What  a  funeral, 
thought  I,  must  that  have  been!  How  difl'erent 
from  the  one  which  I  have  attended  this  day  !  The 


55 

burial,  not  of  the  body,  but  of  the  soul  !  And  its 
burial  in  hell !  I  was  hence  led  to  a  series  of 
reflections  on  the  soul's  funeral,  or  the  burial  of 
the  lost  soul  in  hell.  I  first  contrasted  the  prepa- 
ration which  had  been  made  in  that  now  forsaken 
mansion  in  my  neighbourhood,  with  the  prepara- 
tion made  for  the  funeral  of  the  lost  soul.  Several 
days  were  there  wholly  devoted  to  it,  and  almost 
every  trade  and  handicraft  were  brought  into 
requisition.  The  merchant,  the  tailor,  the  milliner, 
the  coffin-maker,  the  undertaker,  were  all  in  full 
employ.  But  for  the  funeral  of  the  soul  there  was 
no  preparation.  No  time  was  allowed  for  any. 
Like  one  who  had  died  of  an  infectious  disease,  it 
was  hurried  away  the  moment  its  tenement  was 
broken  up  ;  and  all  was  over  before  the  body  was 
laid  out  or  the  solemn  funeral  show  had  been 
planned  by  survivors.  Yet  there  were  some  things 
done,  as  in  the  burial  of  the  body. 

There  were  carriers  employed.  These  were 
difterent  from  those  who  carried  the  soul  of  Laza- 
rus to  Abraham's  bosom.  Those  were  angels ; 
these  were  devils.  No  angels  sued  for  this  soul 
that  they  might  carry  it  to  heaven.     Some  did 


56 

indeed  cast  an  eye  upon  it,  but  they  saw  no 
image  of  God  there — no  spirit  of  hohness,  nor 
devotion  to  Christ ;  nothing  but  sin,  pollution, 
malice,  and  blasphemy;  and  theyleft  it  for  devils, 
who  eagerly  grasped  it  and  bore  it  to  hell. 

There  were  pall-bearers.  And  these  resembled 
those  whom  I  had  seen  at  the  funeral  of  my 
neighbour,  the  companions  of  his  youth,  the  par- 
takers of  his  sin  and  guilt,  the  men  who  had  ate 
and  drank  with  him  on  the  Sabbath,  and  mocked 
God  and  ridiculed  the  Holy  Ghost.  It  was  indeed 
proposed  that  some  venerable  pious  men  of  the 
place  should  walk  by  his  coffin,  but  his  widow  said 
they  had  never  been  his  associates  in  life,  and  they 
should  not  be  honoured  in  his  death;  friends  in  life 
should  be  hrst  regarded.  And  so  it  was,  as  I  saw 
that  lost  soul  borne  away  into  eternity,  some  foul 
spirits  of  darkness  gathered  around  it  from  whom 
it  revolted  with  peculiar  emotions.  They  were  the 
companions  of  its  youth;  its  associates  in  crime; 
who  had  been  hurried  before  it  into  eternity,  and 
were  now  sent  to  accompany  it  to  the  regions  of 
wailing. 

And  there  were  mourners.   In  them  I  was  deeply 


''f- 


57 

interested.  They  seemed  to  be  of  a  different 
spirit  from  all  other  attendants.  They  were 
neither  the  wife  nor  children  that  had  survived. 
They  had  been  apparently  great  mourners  at  the 
funeral  of  the  body,  but  had  cared  not  for  the  soul. 
The  chief  mourner  here  was  an  aged  mother  who 
had  early  dedicated  his  soul  to  God,  and  had  in- 
structed, warned,  rebuked  and  entreated,  with  tears, 
that  it  mi^ht  be  saved,  but  who  had  been  foiled 
in  her  efforts  by  the  world's  power,  and  had  now 
seen  it  cut  off  without  God  and  hope.  She  fol- 
lowed it  into  eternity  with  tears  and  groans, 
exclaiming,  O  my  son  !  my  son  !  And  mingling 
his  tears  with  her's,  was  a  minister  of  the  cross 
who  had  watched  for  that  soul  "as  one  that  must 
give  account,"  who  had  wrestled  hard  for  it  with 
the  angel  of  the  Covenant,  who  had  seen  it  under 
his  preaching,  now  tremble  like  Felix,  and  now 
like  Agrippa,  almost  persuaded  ;  yet  at  last  through 
the  wiles  of  infidelity,  turning  away  in  profane 
scorn,  treading  under  foot  the  Son  of  God,  and 
doing  despite  to  the  Spirit  of  Grace ;  and  who 
now  beheld  it,  not  as  a  seal  of  his  ministry  and  a 
crown  of  rejoicing,  but  as  one  to  whom  the  gos- 

H 


pel  he  had  preached  had  been  a  savour  of  death 
unto  death.  He  wept,  exclaiming,  ^^  If  thou,  even 
thou,  hadst  knmvn  in  this  thy  day  the  things  that 
belong  to  thy  peace,  hut  now  they  are  hid  from  thine 
eyesr  Such  were  the  mourners.  Few  but  sor- 
rowful. 

I  was  hurried  with  all  the  rapidity  of  thought  to 
the  place  of  burial.     It  was 

"  A  dungeon  horrible  on  all  sides  round 

As  one  great  furnace  flam'd  :  yet  from  those  flames 

No  light,  but  rather  darkness  visible, 

Serving  but  to  discover  sights  of  wo  ; 

Regions  of  sorrow,  doleful  shades,  where  peace 

And  rest  can  never  dwell,  hope  never  comes, 

That  comes  to  all;  but  torture  without  end 

Still  urges,  and  a  fiery  deluge,  fed  ^ 

With  ever  burning  sulphur  unconsumed, 

Such  place  Eternal  Justice  had  prepared." 


/•/v<# 


There  this  poor  soul  was  buried, 

"  Far  from  the  utmost  verge  of  day." 

I  had  read  in  my  childhood  of  a  man  who,  sup- 
posed to  be  dead,  was  buried  in  his  tomb,  but  soon 


59 

revived ;  and  there  in  his  coffin,  unable  to  escape, 
had,  when  discovered,  long  lain  meditating  on  his 
past  life,  on  his  awful  condition,  wishing  for  death, 
and  not  finding  it ;  and  I  had  ever  since  a  peculiar 
dread  of  being  buried  alive.  As  I  saw  this  soul 
buried  in  hell,  I  could  not  but  say,  how  awful  there 
to  be  buried  alive  !  But  with  this  soul,  it  was  even 
so;  and  I  perceived  that  it  was  conscious  of  it,  for 
it  looked  round  with  peculiar  agony  in  search  of 
death. 

"  There  sinners  taste  the  second  death, 
And  would,  but  can't  expire." 

I  dreaded  to  think  what  must  be  the  feelings  of 
this  soul,  now  buried  in  hell.  And  I  resolved  to 
turn  away  from  the  scene  and  engage  in  some- 
thing that  would  divert  my  attention,  as  do  men  of 
the  world  from  the  funeral  solemnities  of  some 
neighbour  or  friend ;  but  my  mind  would  wander 
down  into  that  dark  abode  and  there  see  that  once 
bright  and  beautiful  spirit,  which  might,  but  for 
unbelief,  have  been  an  angel  of  light  and  glory, 
now  wrapt  in  eternal  night ;  deeply  realizing  that 
through  its  own  madness  and  folly  it  was  lost  for- 


■  GO 

ever ;  deeply  feeling  that  all  its  pious  friends  were 
now  in  heaven  and  happy  in  God,  while  it  was 
itself  cast  out,  abhorred  of  God,  of  Christ,  and  all 
holy  beings ;  the  eternal  companion  of  the  devil 
and  his  angels,  and  the  prey  of  his  own  ungoverna- 
ble appetites  and  passions ;  loathing  its  own  sins 
in  which  on  earth  it  had  pleasure :  remember- 
ing only  with  anguish  insupportable,  all  the  good 
things  it  had  enjoyed  in  this  life,  its  comforts,  its 
pleasures,  the  warnings  and  entreaties  of  heaven; 
its  day  and  means  of  grace;  enduring  the  stings  of 
conscience  and  the  wrath  of  God,  and  as  it  looked 
up  and  asked.  How  long,  O  Lord  ?  and  heard  in  re- 
ply. Eternity!  Eternity!  sinking  back  in  its  infernal 
pit, 

"  to  weep  and  wail  for  evermore, 
Reaping  the  liarvest  wliich  its  sins  had  sown." 

And,  said  I,  is  this  the  end  of  sin?  the  wages  of 
transgression  ?  Is  this  the  place  where  the  wicked 
are  buried? 

"  Sad  world,  indeed  !  ah,  who  can  hear 
For  ever  there  to  dwell  ? 
.  For  ever  sinking  in  despair 

In  all  the  pains  of  hell  !" 


61 

I  fell  into  an  agony,  for  I  had  friends  yet  in  sin, 
but  more  tiian  all,  I  saw  at  a  glance  that  it  was  the 
end  to  which  I  had  fearfully  exposed  my  own  soul. 
While  lost  to  every  thing  around  me,  T  had  a 
ghmpse  of  one  in  shining  garments,  who  said,  "  I 
am  the  resurrection  and  the  life  ;  he  that  believeth 
in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live." 
"Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord."  "O 
thou  precious  bleeding  Saviour !"  exclaimed  I. 
"And  didst  thou  die  for  me?  and  wilt  thou  save  me 
from  eternal  death?"  I  fell  at  the  mercy  seat,  I 
gave  myself  to  his  blessed  service.  Sweet  peace 
beamed  upon  me  ;  I  arose,  and  went  forth  com- 
mending that  Almighty  Redeemer  to  perishing 
sinners,  as  I  never  did  before ;  and  though  I  have 
often  found  it  good  to  go  to  the  house  of  mourning, 
yet  I  think  it  has  been  peculiarly  happy  for  me  and 
for  others,  that  I  have  attended  the  funeral  of 

THE  LOST  SOUL. 


'A 


62 


NEW  YEAR'S  HYMN. 

He  lives,  who  lives  to  God  alone, 

And  all  are  dead  beside  ; 
For  other  source  than  God  is  none, 

Whence  life  can  be  supplied. 

To  live  to  God  is  to  requite 
His  love  as  best  we  may ; 

To  make  his  precepts  our  delight, 
His  promises  our  stay. 

But  life,  within  a  narrow  ring 

Of  giddy  joys  compris'd, 
Is  falsely  nam'd,  and  no  sucli  thing;, 

But  rather  death  disguis'd. 

Can  life  in  them  deserve  the  name, 

Who  only  live  to  prove 
For  what  poor  toys  they  can  disclaim 

An  endless  life  above  1 

Who  trample  order,  and  the  day 
Which  God  asserts  liis  own, 

Dishonour  witli  unhallow'd  i)lay, 
And  worship  chance  alone  .' 


G3 

If  scorn  of  God's  commands,  impress'd 

On  word  and  deed,  imply 
The  better  part  of  man  unbless'd 

With  life  that  cannot  die  ; 

Such  want  it,  and  that  want,  uncur'd 
Till  man  resigns  his  breath. 

Speaks  him  a  criminal,  assur'd 
Of  everlasting  death. 

Sad  period  to  a  pleasant  course  I 

yet  so  will  God  repay 
Sabbaths  profan'd  without  remorse, 

And  mercy  cast  away. 


REFLECTIONS  ON  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  YEAR. 


We  bring  our  years  to  an  end,  as  it  were  a  tale  that  is  told. 


The  silent  flight  of  time  hath  at  length  brought  * 
us  to  the  close  of  another  year ;  and  now  all  the 
events  which  happened  in  it  seem  but  as  it  were  a 
tale  that  is  told.  In  this  interval  of  time,  how  many 
have  slept  the  sleep  of  death !  many  perhaps  of 
those  we  have  loved  and  esteemed.  Liitle  might 
they  have  thought,  when  the  year  first  smiled  upon 
their  prospects,  how  soon  their  days  were  to  be 
gone.  Just  so  it  is  with  ourselves;  we  look  forward 
to  another  year,  and  scarcely  dream  that  it  may 
prove  our  last.  But  who  amongst  us  can  be 
certain  liuir  /omr  he  hath  to  live  ?  Another  year  is 
nearly  past,  and  hath  brought  us  so  much  nearer  to 
the   hour  of  death.     May  this   consideration   so 


65 

teach  us  to  number  our  days  that  we  may  apply 
our  hearts  to  wisdom.  Let  us  sit  down  awhile  by 
the  sober  lamp  of  meditation,  and  reflect  on  the 
scenes  that  are  past. 

While  others  have  been  summoned  to  their  long 
home,  how  often  hath  the  hand  of  Providence  inter- 
posed to  save  us  from  destruction !  How  many 
days  and  months  of  health  and  strength  have  we 
been  permitted  to  enjoy,  while  they  have  lingered 
on  ihe  bed  of  sickness.  Some  of  us,  probably, 
during  the  year  that  is  past,  have  felt  the  severer 
dispensations  of  Providence,  and  suffered  the  pains 
of  some  alarming  disease  ourselves  ;  and  are  now, 
through  the  gracious  help  of  God,  once  more  re- 
stored to  health.  Has  this  undeserved  mercy 
worked  for  good  in  our  breasts  1  Have  we  learned 
thereby  to  look  up  to  that  God  in  whom  alone  we 
live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being?  Have  we 
duly  reflected  what  might  have  been  our  fate,  had 
it  pleased  him  to  cut  short  our  lives  in  the  midst  of 
so  many  unrepented  sins  ? 

Time  flies  swiftly,  and  no  man  can  stop  its  course ; 
the  year  is  gone  by,  and  who  can  recall  it  ?     Is  it 

I 


66 

not  then  a  question  of  great  consequence  to  us  all, 
how  we  have  spent  it?  Many  of  us  have  hastened 
to  rise  up  early,  and  taken  late  rest,  and  eaten  the 
bread  of  carefulness;  but  yet  our  labour  has  been 
lost,  if  we  have  not  laboured  in  the  Lord.  Hath 
this  been  our  case,  my  friend?  Are  we  no  bet- 
ter Christians  to-day  than  we  were  a  year  ago  1 
Has  no  progress  been  made  in  the  difficult  task 
o{  working  out  our  own  salvation  ?  Have  we  made 
no  advance  in  the  narroio  path  which  leadeth  to 
eternal  life?  If  not,  how  miserably  have  we  trifled 
with  God's  mercy,  who  hath  granted  us  another 
year  to  repent  and  amend  in !  Day  hath  been 
added  to  day,  and  week  to  week,  and  month  to 
month,  till  at  length  the  year  is  completed.  The  pa- 
tience and  long-suffering  of  God  hath  borne  with  us 
still;  the  heavenly  call  hath  been  sounded  in  our 
ears;  the  truths  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ  have  been 
preached  to  our  souls  ;  the  offers  of  grace  and 
pardon  have  been  made  to  us  often  ;  often  the  Sab- 
bath bell  hath  summoned  us  to  the  worship  of  God ; 
and  often  have  we  watched  the  mourners  follow- 
ing the  remains  of  their  departed  friends,  and  com- 
mitting; tiieir  bodies  to  the  cold  bosom  of  the  earth. 


67 

These  events  are  past;  and  now  that  we  have 
brought  our  year  to  an  end,  it  seems  as  it  were  a 
tale  that  is  told.  It  is  a  tale,  however,  which, 
though  we  ourselves  may  neglect  to  attend  to  it, 
shall  be  again  told  in  our  hearing,  in  a  language 
that  shall  make  the  stoutest  heart  to  tremble. 


68 


LOVE  TO  GOD. 

How  sweet  morn's  first  breeze  that  strays  on  the  mountain, 
And  sighs  o'er  its  bosom,  and  murmurs  away  ; 

And  bright  is  the  beam  which  up-springs  from  day's  fountain, 
And  breaks  o'er  the  East  in  its  golden  array ! 

And  lovely  the  riv'let  incessantly  flowing, 

Which  winds,  gently  murm'ring,  its  course  through  the  plain; 
And  welcome  the  beacon  which,  faithfully  glowing, 

Cheers  the  heart  of  the  mariner  toss'd  on  the  main. 

But  sweeter,  my  God,  is  thy  voice  of  compassion, 
Which,  soft  as  the  summer's  dew,  falls  on  the  mind ; 

Which  whispers  the  tidings  of  life  and  salvation. 
And  casts  the  dark  shadows  of  sorrow  bcliind. 

O  yes!  I  have  known  it,  when,  kindly  and  cheering, 
It  hush'd  the  hoarse  tlumders  of  justice  to  rest; 

It  was  heard,  and  the  angel  of  mercy  appearing, 
Pour'd  the  balm  of  relief  o'er  the  penitent's  breast. 

And  still  may  I  hear  it,  while  crossing  life's  ocean, 
Or  borne  on  the  billow,  or  breath'd  in  the  gale ; 

Enkindling  the  flame  of  expiring  devotion, 
And  utt'ring  the  promise  that  never  shall  fail. 


69 


'Tis  the  still  voice  of  Him  who  expir'd  on  the  mountain, 
And  breath'd  out  for  sinners  his  last  dying  groan ; 

His  voice  who  on  Calvary  open'd  the  fountain, 
Of  water  to  cleanse,  and  of  blood  to  atone. 

That  voice,  O  believer  !  shall  cheer  and  protect  thee. 
When  the  cold  chill  of  death  thy  frail  bosom  invades ; 

At  its  sound  shall  the  Day-Star  arise  to  direct  thee. 
And  gild  with  refulgence  the  valley  of  shades. 


70 


A  DREAM  ABOUT  THE  OLD  YEAR. 


The  year  1830,  which  was  once  youthful, 
sprightly  and  gay,  having  passed  through  the  va- 
ried stages  of  his  transient  hfe,  is  now  departed  to 
be  no  more  seen  !  Under  the  impression  that  the 
morrow  would  be  the  last  day  of  his  abode  among 
us,  I  laid  me  down  to  sleep ;  and  as  I  slept  I 
dreamed  that  the  morning  was  come,  and  that  the 
year  made  his  appearance  for  the  last  time,  with 
his  locks  adorned  with  snow,  and  his  long  flowing 
beard  silvered  with  the  icicles  of  the  north.  His 
step  was  slow ;  yet  there  was  a  dignity  in  his 
countenance  which  excited  veneration.  When  I 
saw  him  I  did  him  reverence,  and  bowing  low, 
with  my  face  towards  the  earth,  with  profound 
respect  I  thus  addressed  him  : — "  Reverend  father, 
excuse  me  if  I  presume  to  implore  thy  advice  and 
counsel,  for  I  know  that  ere  to-morrow's  dawn 


71 

thou  wilt  have  made  thine  exit,  to  be  no  more  seen 
for  ever;  therefore,  I  beseech  thee,  give  me  thy 
blessing."  When  1  had  thus  spoken,  he  waved  his 
hand,  which  I  considered  as  a  signal  to  arrest  my 
attention ;  and,  after  pausing  a  moment,  he,  in 
great  condescension,  complied  with  my  request. 
And  as  dreams  are  not  always  to  be  treated  with 
slight  and  indifference,  especially  when,  if  duly 
regarded,  they  may  tend  to  promote  our  moral  im- 
provement, I  hasten  to  record  the  words  which  fell 
from  his  lips,  which,  as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect, 
were  as  follows: — 

"  Ere  I  comply  with  thy  request,  O,  thou  descend- 
ant of  Adam,  let  me  charge  thee,  as  thou  regardest 
thy  happiness,  to  pay  attention  to  the  words  of  my 
mouth ;  for,  be  assured,  whether  thou  regardest 
them  or  not,  I  never  speak  in  vain.  If  thou  listen, 
and  treasure  up  my  words  in  thy  heart,  it  shall  be 
well  with  thee ;  but  if  they  are  sutfered  to  pass 
away  like  the  morning  cloud  and  the  early  dew, 
though  thou  hast  gratified  thy  curiosity,  yet  re- 
member, thy  neglect  will  be  registered  on  high, 
and  it  will  prove  a  swift  witness  against  thee,  when 
God  shall  require  ihy  soul  !"     This  introductory 


f 

72 

address,  delivered  with  all  that  dignity  and  solem- 
nity which  ancient  sages  were  wont  to  display, 
made  a  powerful  impression  on  my  mind.     After 
a  solemn  pause,  he  thus  proceeded : — "  Know  then, 
O  man !  that  heaven  hath  placed  thee  in  this  state 
of  probation,  to  give  thee  an  opportunity  to  work 
out  thy  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling ;  and  that 
thou  mayest  accomplish  this  important  work,  a 
space  is  assigned  thee  sufficient  unto  the   great 
object.      Already,   days   and   months   and  years 
have  been  granted  thee  to  this  intent ;  and  now, 
after  so  long  a  time,  for  which  thou  art  accounta- 
ble— '  To-day,  if  thou  wilt  hear  my  voice,  harden 
not  thine  heart!'  "    Having  spoken  these  words,  he 
presented  to  me  a  tube,  in  which  were  placed  optic 
glasses,  and  then  continued  his  address  : — "  Let  ^ 
the  coming  day,  the  latest  of  my  existence,  be  em- 
ployed in  taking  a  retrospect  of  my  life  ;  and  when 
thou  hast  so  done,  turn  the  instrument  which  I 
have  now  ])ut  into  thine  hand,  and  thereby  thou 
wilt  perceive  thy  own  conduct  portrayed  most  im- 
partially, from  the  first  moment  of  my  appearance 
in   the  world,  up  to  the  present  period.     Having 
performed  this  important  task,  let  thy  conscience 


73 

say  whether  thou  hast  rendered  unto  the  Lord 
according  to  all  the  mercy  and  all  the  truth  which 
he  hath  shown  unto  thee.  If  thou  art  then  con- 
scious of  multiplied  neglects,  bow  low  at  his  foot- 
stool, and  confess  thy  guilt,  for  there  is  forgiveness 
with  him  that  he  may  be  feared;  and  if  thy  peni- 
tential confessions  are  attended  with  genuine 
remorse  and  real  contrition  of  heart,  they  will  be 
recorded  in  the  book  of  God's  remembrance;  but 
if  they  are  insincere  and  hypocritical,  sin  lieth  at 
thy  door,  and  thy  guilt  will  he  greatly  augmented 
in  the  sight  of  the  Lord.  If  the  Author  of  thy  life, 
who  dclighteth  not  in  the  death  of  a  sinner,  but 
would  rather  that  he  turn  from  his  wickedness  and 
live,  should  indulge  thee  with  leave  to  behold  my 
successor,  hail  his  coming  with  gratitude ;  and 
remember,  that  by  such  an  indulgence,  a  still  longer 
space  is  allotted  thee,  that  thou  mayest  prepare  to 
meet  thy  God !" 

He  ceased,  and  without  waiting  my  reply,  he 
proceeded  onward  to  fulfil,  as  a  hireling,  his  day ; 
and  being  greatly  agitated,  I  awoke,  and  behold  it 
was  a  dream  ! 

Such  was  the  eficct  produced  on  my  mind  by 

K 


74  '        •  , 

this  solemn  lecture,  that  if  I  were  ever  disposed  to 
consider  dreams  the  mere  reveries  of  imagination, 
I  should,  in  this  instance  at  least,  have  altered  my 
opinion ;  for  I  was  constrained  to  conclude,  on 
mature  reflection,  that  it  would  be  most  reasonable, 
in  my  waking  moments,  to  reduce  to  practice  the 
wise  lessons  that  were  thus  taught  me  in  the  visions 
of  the  night. 

The  day,  the  last  in  the  year,  that  is  now  de- 
parted, being  thus  commenced,  was  a  day  of  serious 
reflection ;  for,  as  you  may  well  suppose,  the  vi- 
sion of  the  night  had  made  a  deep  impression  on 
my  mind ;  consetjuently,  when  the  evening  had  cast 
her  veil  over  the  face  of  nature,  I  retired,  and  re- 
signed myself  up  to  solemn  thought.  I  reflected  on 
my  situation,  as  one  who  must  shortly  stand  before 
the  judgment-seat  of  Christ,  to  give  an  account  of 
the  deeds  done  in  the  body,  whether  they  be  good, 
or  whether  they  be  evil,  and  the  voluntary  petition 
broke  from  my  lips — "  The  Lord  grant  that  I  may 
find  mercy  in  that  day."  And  inasmuch  as  now 
is  the  accepted  time,  and  to-day  is  the  day  of  sal- 
vation, I  charged  my  soul  to  be  much  more  atten- 
tive to  her  great  concern,  knowing  tnat  the  time  is 


75 

short,  and  that  the  Judge  standeth  at  the  door.  I 
considered  that  time,  in  its  unvarying  course,  had 
measured  another  year,  and  consequently,  I  was 
imperiously  called  to  serious  meditation ;  that 
although  days,  as  they  hasten  their  flight,  bespoke 
attention,  yet,  that  when  days  increased  in  number 
to  three  hundred  and  sixty-five,  their  voices  are 
particularly  loud,  and  speak  so  that  all  should  hear. 
Hence  I  felt  that  I  should  do  well  to  obey  their 
summons,  and  to  listen  with  all  attention;  for,  per- 
adventure,  if  I  should  let  this  opportunity  slip, 
another  might  not  be  granted.  To-day,  therefore, 
after  so  long  a  time,  as  it  is  said  to-day,  I  consid- 
ered myself  bound  to  regard,  lest  the  heavenly 
oracle  should  speak  to  me  no  more.  It  was  at  this 
moment  that  I  felt  myself  upbraided  with  my  in- 
gratitude to  the  Most  High;  the  inward  monitor 
reminded  me,  that  I  had  not,  in  seasons  that  are 
past,  rendered  to  the  Lord  according  to  the  least 
of  the  mercies  that  he  had  displayed  towards  me ; 
that  in  the  retrospect,  I  should  discover  innumera- 
ble instances  of  ingratitude,  notwithstanding  I  had 
experienced  an  uninterrupted  series  of  goodness 
and  mercy  ;  that  in  consequence  of  these  repeated 


7G 

proofs  of  disobedience,  it  would  now  become  me 
to  prostrate  myself  before  him,  and  make  an  hum- 
ble confession  of  my  iniquity,  and  implore  his 
heavenly  grace  to  enable  me  henceforth  to  obey 
his  will.  This  reproof  and  advice  were  so  appro- 
priate, that  I  instantly  complied ;  and  thus,  on 
New  Year's  Eve,  I  poured  out  my  soul  before  the 
Lord : — 

"  O  thou  most  gracious,  most  merciful,  and  ever 
blessed  God,  be  pleased  to  permit  me,  an  unwor- 
thy creature,  to  prostrate  myself  at  thy  footstool ; 
conscious  of  my  innumerable  sins,  I  tremble  to  pre- 
sent myself  before  thine  awful  Majesty ;  but  being 
informed  in  thy  holy  word  that  there  is  forgive- 
ness with  thee  that  thou  maycst  be  feared,  I  bow 
myself  before  thy  throne,  and  beseech  thee  to  have 
mercy  upon  me. 

"  When  I  review  the  past,  shame  covers  me,  for 
I  have  done  very  wickedly,  and  am  no  more  wor- 
thy to  be  called  thy  servant ;  but  have  mercy  upon 
me,  have  mercy  upon  me,  O  Lord  !  and  blot  out 
all  my  sins,  for  thy  dear  Son  Jesus  Christ's  sake. 

"  And  will  it  please  thee  to  accept  of  my  sincere 
thanks  for  all  the  blessings  which  thou  hast  con- 


.r 


77 

ferred  upon  me  through  the  year  that  is  now  so 
near  its  close,  and  may  a  grateful  remembrance 
of  thy  great  kindness  towards  me  influence  my  fu- 
ture conduct.  And  as  I  am  about,  with  thy  per- 
mission, to  enter  upon  a  new  period,  assist  me  with 
thine  heavenly  grace,  that,  with  renewed  zeal,  I 
may  obey  thy  will,  and  cheerfully  run  in  the  way 
of  thy  commandments.  Grant  these  mercies  unto 
me,  O  Lord !  I  beseech  thee,  for  the  sake  of  thy 
Son  Jesus  Christ  my  Redeemer.     Amen." 


78 


TO   SPRING. 

Hail,  reviving,  joyous  Spring-, 

Smiling-  through  thy  veil  of  showers! 

Birds  and  brooks  thy  welcome  sing — 
Haste,  and  waken  all  thy  flowers. 

Hark  !  a  sweet  pervading  sound  ! 

From  the  breathing,  moving  earth 
Life  is  starting  all  around. 

Sending  joy  and  fragrance  forth. 

O'er  the  oak's  gigantic  form 
Blossoms  hang  their  drapery  ; 

Branches  that  defied  the  storm, 
Now  are  full  of  melody. 

There  is  not  a  silent  thing 

In  this  joyous  company ; 
Woods,  and  hills,  and  valleys  ring 

With  a  shout  of  jubilee. 

Wake,  my  spirit !  art  thou  still  1 
Senseless  tilings  have  found  a  voice 

Shall  this  throbbing  heart  be  still, 
Wlien  all  nature  cries,  '  Rejoice'  J 


79 

Wake,  come  forth,  my  bounding  soul ! 

Join  the  universal  glee, 
Yield  to  nature's  kind  control. 

Catch  her  heavenly  harmony. 

Join  the  grateful,  happy  throng, 
Cast  each  selfish  care  away ; 

Birds  and  brooks  shall  tune  thy  song ; 
This  is  nature's  holiday. 


m 


A  SERIOUS  ADDRESS  TO  CHILDREN  AND  YOUTH, 

Helafing  io  the  great  and  necessary  duty  of  Prayer. 


Give  me  leave  to  propose  to  you  a  few  serious 
considerations,  to  awaken  your  desires  to  seek 
after  God,  and  to  pray  to  him  in  your  early  years, 
and  if  you  are  convinced  that  this  is  your  neces- 
sary duty,  you  will  then  more  readily  hearken  to 
the  advices  that  follow. 

I.  ''Consider  who  and  what  God  is." 
Have  you  not  been  told  that  he  is  an  Almighty 
Being,  who  made  the  heavens,  and  the  earth,  and 
the  sea,  and  all  things  that  are  in  them?  That  he  is 
a  Spirit  and  that  he  is  every  where  present,  though 
you  cannot  see  him?  That  he  knows  all  things  that 
you  do,  and  that  he  can  do  all  things  that  you  desire 
of  him  ?  That  he  is  holy,  and  hates  sin,  and  yet  that 
lie  is  very  good  and  full  of  mercy,  even  to  his  sinful 


.  itmrifan  Surjcv  Sekoot  Vi:wn  Thiladf 


81 

creatures?  That  he  is  the  greatest,  the  wisest,  and 
the  best  of  beings  ?  And  does  he  not  expect  you 
should  love  and  honour  him,  who  is  so  great  and 
so  good  1  Does  he  not  require  that  you  should  praise 
him  for  his  glorious  nature,  and  for  his  wonderful 
works,  or  have  you  learned  to  know  him  in  vain  1 
And  is  he  not  your  heavenly  Father  who  gave 
you  a  being  ?  Did  he  not  make  you  to  love,  and 
serve,  and  worship  him?  And  how  can  you  pre- 
tend to  serve,  and  love  him,  if  you  never  pray  to 
him  ?  Could  you  but  see  him,  children,  you  would 
think  him  the  most  lovely  and  most  excellent  of  all 
beings,  and  should  you  not  then  be  exceedingly  de- 
sirous to  be  more  acquainted  with  him,  and  seek 
to  obtain  his  love  ? 

II.  "Consider  who  and  what  you  are." 
Are  you  not  young  creatures,  that  a  few  years 
ago  had  no  being  at  all,  and  can  you  preserve 
your  own  lives  ?  And  is  it  not  of  high  concern  to 
you  to  be  acquainted  with  that  God,  and  to  pray  to 
him  upon  whom  your  very  being  depends  ?  He 
that  made  you  can  destroy  you.  And  besides,  are 
you  not  sinful  creatures  that  have  deserved  the 
anger  of  God  ?     Do  not  your  own  hearts  and  con- 

L 


82 

sciences  tell  you  that  you  have  done  many  things 
amiss  and  that  you  have  provoked  that  God  who 
made  you,  to  be  angry  with  you,  and  to  take  aw^ay 
all  your  comforts  1  And  are  you  willing  to  con- 
tinue under  his  anger  for  ever  ?  Do  you  know 
how  terrible  is  the  anger  of  God,  who  can  make 
you  miserable  in  this  world,  and  in  that  which  is  to 
come  1  And  is  he  not  very  gracious,  to  call  upon 
such  sinners  as  you  are,  to  pray  to  him?  Is  it  not 
necessary,  therefore,  that  you  should  come  humbly 
before  iiim,  and  fall  down  on  your  knees  and  con- 
fess your  sins,  and  entreat  him  to  lay  his  anger 
aside,  and  to  love  you  notwithstanding  all  your 
offences  ?  This  leads  me  to  the  third  considera- 
tion. 

III.  "  Consider  what  are  your  wants." 
Those  wants,  which  you  take  the  first  and  most 
common  notice  of,  arc  such  as  relate  to  your 
bodies  and  your  present  life,  which  are  called  tem- 
poral wants.  Do  you  not  stand  in  daily  need  of 
food  and  raiment,  that  you  may  not  sutler  sharp 
hunger  and  cold  1  Do  you  not  want  the  continu- 
ance of  your  health  and  your  ease,  that  you  may 
not  pine  away  with  sickness  and  pain  ?     Can  you 


83 

keep  yourselves  alive,  or  can  any  of  your  friends 
here  on  earth  keep  you  from  dying  1  Do  you  not 
know,  that  God  is  the  author  of  all  your  comforts, 
and  it  is  on  him  you  depend  for  daily  food  and 
clothing,  for  health  and  strength  and  ease,  for  re- 
covery from  sickness,  and  for  preservation  from 
death  ?  It  is  certainly  from  God,  that  you  must 
seek  all  these  things  by  prayer. 

Are  you  not  exposed  to  dangers  every  day,  and 
every  night?  Do  you  not  want  the  care  of  God  to 
keep  you  both  night  and  day?  to  preserve  you 
from  mischief,  from  fires,  from  violent  and  cruel 
men,  and  from  all  evils  of  every  kind?  And  since 
you  deserve  nothing  at  the  hand  of  God,  can  you 
suppose  he  will  watch  over  you,  as  with  his  eye, 
and  cover  you  from  all  evil,  as  with  his  hand,  if 
you  never  call  upon  him,  nor  ask  his  favour  ? 

But  in  the  next  place,  do  you  not  know,  that  you 
have  a  soul  as  well  as  a  body,  and  that  you  want 
some  spiritual  blessings,  for  your  souls,  as  well  as 
temporal  blessings,  that  belong  to  your  bodies  ?  Let 
us  now  consider,  what  these  spiritual  wants  are. 

Since  you  are  guilty  creatures,  do  you  not  great- 
ly want  the  forgiveness  of  your  sins?     Have  you 


84        -  • 

not  been  taught,  that  your  sins  have  deserved  great 
and  sore  punishments  both  here  and  hereafter? 
And  are  you  not  very  desirous  to  he  deUvered  from 
this  punishment  1  But  can  you  expect  God  will 
pardon  and  deUver  you,  if  you  never  pray  to  him 
for  pardon? 

And  since  you  cannot  do  any  thing,  to  make 
recompense  to  the  great  and  holy  God,  for  your 
offences,  how  speedily  should  you  apply  to  Jesus 
Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  who  now  dwells  in  heaven, 
who  did  once  dwell  here  on  earth,  and  make  recom- 
pense by  his  death,  for  the  sins  and  offences  of  men? 
He  is  the  great  Mediator  and  Peace-maker  between 
God  and  man?  How  earnestly  should  you  pray, 
that  you  may  enjoy  the  benefit  of  his  mediation, 
and  that  he  may  bring  you  into  a  state  of  peace 
with  God,  and  reconcile  you  to  him  ?  How  should 
you  cry  to  God,  that  he  would  forgive  you,  for  the 
sake  of  his  wcU-belovcd  Son  Jesus  t^'hrist  ?  Me- 
thinks,  since  you  are  sensible  that  you  are  guilty 
sinners,  you  should  not  be  easy  one  day,  without 
seeking  to  God  for  mercy  and  forgiveness. 

Remember  also  that  though  your  sins  were  par- 
doned, yet  you  have  a  sinful  nature  in  you,  ready 


85 

to  offend  God  again  continually.  Do  you  not  find 
yourselves  too  ready  to  commit  new  sins  ?  Are 
you  not  soon  ready  to  be  angry,  without  a  cause, 
or  to  strike  others  presently,  or  call  them  ill  names, 
if  they  do  not  act  just  as  you  would  have  them  ? 
Are  you  never  ready  to  be  envious,  that  is  to  grow 
uneasy,  and  fret,  if  other  children  have  better 
things  than  you  1  Are  you  not  ready  to  disobey 
your  parents  or  your  teacher,  or  to  spend  your 
time  in  play,  when  you  should  be  at  work,  or 
learning  your  book  ?  Are  you  not  sometimes  in- 
chned  to  hide  your  faults,  by  telling  a  lie  ?  Do 
not  you  find  yourselves  too  ready  to  learn  evil 
words,  or  to  wish  evil  to  others,  or  take  something 
privately  by  stealth,  that  is  not  allowed  you,  or  to 
do  something  that  is  forbidden?  And  do  you  not 
see  then,  how  much  you  want  to  pray  for  the 
grace  of  God,  to  keep  you  from  sin  daily? 

And  are  not  your  minds  too  ignorant  of  God,  and 
religion,  and  heavenly  things,  and  do  you  not  find 
your  spirits  too  ready  to  yield  to  sin  1  Is  it  not  a 
pleasure  to  you  to  think,  that  God  has  promised  his 
own  Holy  spirit,  to  instruct  you  in  the  understand- 
ing of  holy  things,  as  well  as  to  help  you,  in  doing 


your  duty  both  to  God  and  man  ?  This  is  a  blessed 
promise,  indeed,  to  poor  ignorant  sinful  creatures, 
such  as  we  are.  But  can  you  think,  God  will  give 
his  grace,  or  his  Holy  Spirit  to  them,  who  never 
pray  to  him,  or  ask  him  for  it?  and  are  there  not 
encouragements  given,  by  our  Saviour  himself,  to 
such  requests  ?  Do  you  not  read  in  your  Bible, 
Luke  xi.  13 :  If  we  give  good  gifts  to  our  chil- 
dren, how  much  more  shall  our  heavenly  Fa- 
ther give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him  ? 
But  besides  your  temporal  and  spiritual  wants,  is 
there  not  another  sort  of  blessings,  that  you  stand 
in  need  of,  which  are  called  eternal  blessings  ?  Do 
not  you  know  that  you  cannot  live  here  always? 
Have  you  not  been  taughi  that  your  body  must 
die,  and  be  buried,  and  turn  to  dust,  in  the  grave; 
and  that  your  soul,  or  spirit,  which  cannot  die, 
must  then  go  into  another  world  ?  Have  you  not 
been  told,  that  Jesus  Christ  the  Son  of  God,  who 
died  for  sinners  once  on  earth,  is  now  gone  to  hea- 
ven, to  take  care  of  the  souls  of  his  })eo{)le,  when 
they  leave  this  world  ?  And  do  you  think  Jesus 
Christ  will  take  care  of  your  soul,  when  it  comes 
like  a  stranger  into  that  other  world,  if  you  have 


87 

not  been  acquainted  with  him,  by  believing  his 
word,  and  if  you  have  not  committed  and  entrusted 
your  soul  into  his  hands  by  prayer. 

You  must  go  to  stand  before  God  the  Judge  of 
all,  when  you  die ;  and  are  you  prepared  and  fit  to 
stand  before  God,  if  you  have  not  obtained  a  good 
hope,  that  God  loves  you,  and  is  reconciled  to  you? 
There  are  but  two  places  in  the  other  world,  and 
these  are  heaven  and  hell :  Heaven  for  the  right- 
eous, who  love  God  and  pray  to  him,  and  hell  for 
the  wicked,  who  neither  pray  to  him,  nor  love 
him.  And  can  you  ever  hope  that  God  will  save 
you  from  hell  and  the  devil,  and  that  he  will 
receive  you  to  dwell  with  himself,  and  with  his  Son 
Jesus  Christ  in  heaven,  if  you  never  pray  to  him 
for  these  blessings  ? 

IV.  "  Consider  what  your  mercies  are." 
How  kindly  has  God  dealt  with  you  in  this 
world?  Has  he  not  given  you  such  parents  and 
friends,  who  by  his  order  provide  food  and  raiment, 
and  house  and  bed,  and  every  thing  convenient  for 
you?  How  many  poor  children  are  there  that 
want  these  comforts,  and  are  exposed  to  hunger 
and  cold  ?     Have  not  your  parents  and  friends 


88 

taken  care,  that  you  should  be  taught  to  read,  and 
to  learn  many  things  for  your  good,  both  here  and 
hereafter  1  Do  you  not  know  that  it  was  God  who 
put  it  into  their  hearts,  and  also  made  them  able 
to  do  it?  How  many  thousand  poor  creatures  are 
there  in  this  land,  who  know  nothing  of  God  and 
cannot  read  a  word?  Is  it  not  God,  who  has 
made  this  happy  difference  between  you  and  them  ? 
and  should  you  not  praise  him  for  his  goodness  ? 
Have  you  not  seen  other  children  blind,  or  lame, 
or  crooked,  or  foolish  ?  Is  it  not  God,  who  has 
given  you  your  limbs  and  your  senses?  Is  it  not 
the  same  good  God,  that  gives  you  health  and 
peace  by  night  and  day ;  and  are  you  not  bound 
to  thank  him  for  these  his  mercies  ?  What!  would 
you  live  like  the  brute  beasts,  who  cat  and  drink 
and  sleep,  and  take  no  notice  of  the  great  God 
from  whose  hand  all  your  blessings  come? 

Has  not  God,  by  his  good  providence,  caused 
you  to  be  born  and  bred  in  a  land  where  you  have 
learned  the  knowledge  of  the  true  God,  and  are 
not  brought  up,  to  worship  images  of  wood  or 
stone,  as  the  children  in  heathen  countries  do?  Have 
you  not  the  Bible,  the  book  of  God,  in  your  hands, 


89 

in  a  language  you  can  read,  and  where  you  can 
read  of  God,  and  Christ,  and  heavenly  things  ? 
And  since  you  are  taught  to  know  God  and  the 
way  to  heaven,  as  well  as  blessed  with  so  many 
blessings  here  on  earth,  is  not  your  heart  full  of 
thankfulness  to  God  1  And  how  can  you  refrain 
from  falling  down  upon  your  knees,  and  praising 
the  mercy  of  God,  who  has  done  all  this  for  you  ? 

V.  "  Consider  what  relation  you  stand  in  to 
others." 

Have  you  not  a  father  and  mother  that  you  are 
bound  to  honour  and  love?  And  would  you  never 
pray,  that  God  would  bestow  his  best  blessings 
on  them,  and  make  them  live  long  to  bring  you 
up  in  his  fear?  Have  you  not  brothers  or  sisters, 
or  other  friends  and  relations  that  love  you  ?  and 
have  you  no  mercies  to  ask  of  God  for  them  ?  Do 
not  your  masters  or  teachers  or  ministers  desire 
that  you  should  pray  to  God  to  bless  them,  that 
they  may  the  better  instruct  you,  in  the  knowledge 
of  all  things  useful  for  this  world  and  that  which 
is  to  come.  They  pray  for  you,  and  you  should 
pray  for  them. 

And  indeed  you  stand  so  nearly  related  to  all 

M 


"^  90 

mankind,  that  you  should  sometimes  lift  up  a 
prayer  to  heaven  for  them.  Pray  for  heathens, 
that  they  may  be  turned  away  from  their  follies 
and  errors,  and  I'alse  religions,  and  be  led  into  the 
ways  of  truth  and  holiness  and  eternal  peace.  And 
you  should  pray  for  the  nation,  also,  to  which  you 
belong,  that  we  all  may  be  preserved  in  peace  and 
prosperity.  And  can  you  not  find  it  in  your  hearts 
to  forgive  those  that  have  injured  you,  and  to  lift 
up  one  prayer  for  your  enemies  that  God  would 
forgive  them  too?  This  must  be  done  if  you  would 
be  christians  indeed. 

Since  then,  dear  children,  there  are  such  a  mul- 
titude of  reasons,  that  oblige  you  to  pray  to  God ; 
since  you  see  it  is  your  constant  duty,  and  it  is 
your  highest  interest,  if  you  would  be  safe  and 
happy  in  this  world,  or  the  world  to  come,  I  would 
persuade  myself,  you  will  delay  no  longer,  but  be- 
gin this  religious  work  immediately;  and  I  humbly 
pray,  that  God  would  abundantly  assist  and  bless 
you  therein,  that  you  may  learn  from  your  own  ex- 
perience, how  sweet  and  profitable  a  thing  it  is,  to 
call  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord. 


91 


CHARLEY  AND  HIS  FATHER, 

A  li.VLLAD. 

The  birds  are  flown  away, 

The  flowers  are  dead  and  gone, 

The  clouds  look  cold  and  gray- 
Around  the  setting  sun. 

The  trees  with  solemn  sighs 
Their  naked  branches  swing ; 

The  winter  winds  arise, 
And  mournfully  they  sing. 

Upon  his  fatiier's  knee 

Was  Ciiarley's  happy  place, 
And  very  thoughtfully 

He  looked  up  in  his  face  : 

And  these  his  simple  words  ; 

'  Father,  how  cold  it  blows  ! 
^Vhat  'comes  of  all  the  birds 

Amidst  the  storms  and  snows'!' 

'  They  fly  far,  far  away 

From  storms  and  snows  and  rain : 
But,  Charley  dear,  next  May 

They  '11  all  come  back  again.' 


92 

'  And  will  my  flowers  come  too  1' 

The  little  fellow  said, 
'And  all  be  bright  and  new 

Tliat  now  looks  cold  and  dead  V 

'  Oh  yes,  dear ;  in  the  spring 
The  flowers  will  all  revive, 

The  birds  return  and  sing. 
And  all  be  made  alive.' 

♦  Who  shows  tlie  birds  the  way, 
Father,  that  they  must  go  ] 

And  brings  them  back  in  May, 
When  there  is  no  more  snow  1 

'  And  when  no  flower  is  seen 
Upon  the  hill  and  plain. 

Who  '11  make  it  all  so  green, 
And  bring  the  flowers  again  V 

'  My  son,  there  is  a  Power 
Tliat  none  of  us  can  see. 

Takes  care  of  every  flower, 
Gives  life  to  every  tree. 

'  lie  through  the  pathless  air 
Shows  little  birds  their  way  : 

And  we,  too,  are  his  care — 
lie  guards  us  day  by  day.' 


93 

*  Father,  when  people  die, 
Will  they  come  back  in  May?' 

Tears  were  in  Charley's  eye — 
'  Will  they,  dear  father,  say*?' 

'  No  !  they  will  never  come : 
We  go  to  them,  my  boy, 

There,  in  our  heavenly  home. 
To  meet  in  endless  joy.' 

Upon  his  father's  knee, 

Still  Charley  kept  his  place. 

And  very  thoughtfully 
He  looked  up  in  his  face. 


94 


YOUTHFUL   DEVOTION. 


I  SOMETIMES  ask  invsclf  whether  the  same  atten- 
tion is  now  paid  to  form  in  infants,  or  children  and 
youth,  the  habits  of  devotion,  as  formerly.  There 
are  good  people,  who  write  books  of  devotion  for 
them;  but  books  will  be  neglected,  if  parents  are 
not  attentive.  When  I  was  a  child,  my  mother 
took  my  hands  in  her's,  and  heard  me  solemnly 
repeat  the  Lord's  prayer,  prcfacniig  and  following 
the  exercise  with  such  short  remarks,  as  made  me 
fed  it  was  an  act  of  devotion,  if  I  did  not  com- 
prehend the  vast  meaning  of  those  words. 

Wiien  I  was  older,  I  was  one  of  the  children 
and  grandchildren  that  were  called  round  the  bed 
of  a  very  aged  grandfather,  apprehending  him- 
self at  the  point  of  death.  It  was  an  affecting 
and  impressive  scene,  something  like  that  in  the 
dying  chamber  of  the  patriarch  Jacob.     My  vene- 


95 

rated  relative,  approaching  his  ninetieth  year,  re- 
duced by  fever,  sat  bolstered  up  in  his  bed.  When 
he  saw  us  standing  round  him  in  a  circle,  his  lan- 
guid eye  seemed  to  light  up  with  something  like 
inspiration.  He  spake  with  a  holy  wisdom,  which 
astonished  every  hearer — with  a  wisdom  surpass- 
ing that  of  his  best  days.  It  was  religious  counsel 
all,  and  adapted  to  the  different  ages  of  children 
and  grandchildren  around  him.  To  the  young  he 
said — "  1  charge  you,  keep  up  secret  prayer;'  it  is 
the  life  of  religion.  Enter  into  thy  closet,  and 
when  thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to  thy  Father  who 
is  in  secret,  and  thy  Father  7cho  seeth  in  secret  shall 
reward  thee  opeiily."  Fifty  years  have  not  effaced 
the  impression  of  that  charge  ;  I  could  almost  say, 
have  not  diminished  the  strength  and  vividness  of 
its  impression  on  my  mind. 

It  washy  such  means  that  the  principle  of  devo- 
tion was  fixed  in  the  young  mind  formerly,  and  its 
sentiment  awakened,  and  its  iiabit  begun  and  pre- 
served. Is  it  not  now  the  case  that  many  parents 
neglect  their  children  for  a  multitude  of  meetings, 
enough  almost  to  distract  the  mind ;  and  while  they 
keep  up  social  prayer  abroad,  neglect  it  at  home, 


96 

or  perform  it  with  less  interest  and  care  to  edify ; 
and  but  seldom  take  their  kneeling  children's  hands 
in  their's?  Well-regulated  social  meetings  are 
good ;  but  domestic  and  secret  devotion,  parental 
instruction  and  self-examination  are  better,  and 
much  more  insisted  on  in  the  scriptures. 

When  1  was  myself  young,  1  knew  a  little  boy  of 
eleven  or  twelve  years,  who  made  a  conscience  of 
secret  prayer.  He  had  his  little  oratory,  or  place 
of  prayer.  It  was  retired  in  an  orchard,  a  little 
enclosure  of  four  poles.  To  this  he  resorted  under 
cover  of  darkness,  or  in  early  morning  before  peo- 
ple were  abroad,  and  there  poured  forth  his  prayer 
in  secret.  When  he  was  very  sick,  his  anxious 
mother  drew  from  liiin  the  secret,  which  he  had 
carefully  kept  to  liiinself,  and  her  pious  mind  was 
relieved  of  half  her  anxiety  for  him.  Several  of 
his  companions,  by  his  j)rivato  and  confidential  f)cr- 
suasion,  began  secret  j)rayer.  One  of  them  became 
a  preacher  of  the  gosj)el,  and  thanked  him  for  his 
advice  in  their  childhood ;  and  another  of  them 
became  an  othcer  of  the  church,  of  which  his  early 
adviser  was  the  pastor. 

These  simple  facts,  I  hope,  need  but  be  stated  to 


97 

the  young  to  be  edifying  and  to  determine  them  to 
the  duty  of  secret  prayer,  "a  duty  which  is  the  life 
of  religm},"  as  thought  an  experienced  and  dying 
man. 

I  will  close  these  instances  of  instruction  and 
example  by  relating  a  little  incident,  which  some 
years  since  brought  tears  into  my  eyes.  I  was 
visiting  in  a  respectable  family;  the  gentleman  was 
from  Scotland,  a  devotional  nation,  and  his  wife 
an  American,  educated  devoutly  among  the  Mo- 
ravians, at  Bethlehem.  After  tea,  the  nurse 
brought  in  a  lovely  little  boy,  about  three  years  old, 
in  his  night-gown.  He  kneeled  at  the  feet  of  his 
mother,  and  with  clasped  hands  and  great  solemnity 
repeated  his  prayers.  He  then  rose  from  his 
knees,  and  putting  his  little  hand  into  his  mother's, 
said,  very  afiectionately,  "God  bless  you,  mam- 
ma;" he  did  and  said  the  same  to  his  father;  and 
then  to  the  stranger  he  said,  "God  bless  you,  sir,' 
and  retired  with  his  nurse. 


98 


HYMN  TO  THE  DEITY. 

"There  is  no  sound  or  language  where  their  voice  is  not  heard." 

The  heavenly  spheres  to  thee,  O  God  !  attune  their  evening 

hymn, 
iMl-wise,  all-holy,  thou  art  praised  in  song  of  seraphim; 
Unnumber'd  systems,  suns,  and  worlds,  unite  to  worship  thee, 
While  thy  majestic  greatness  fills  space — time — eternity. 

Nature, — a  temple  worthy  thee,  that  beams  with  ligiit  and  love. 
Whose  flowers  so  sweetly  bloom  below,  whose  stars  rejoice 

above ; 
Whose  altars  are  tlie  mountain  cliffs  that  rise  along  the  shore. 
Whose  anthems,  the  sublime  accord  of  storm  and  ocean  roar : 

Her  song  of  gratitude  is  sung  by  spring's  awakening  hours. 
Her  summer  offers  at  thy  slirine  its  earliest,  sweetest  flowers; 
Her  autumn  brings  its  ripen'd  fruits,  in  glorious  luxury  given, 
While  winter's  silver  heights  reflect  thy  brightness  back  to 
heaven ! 

On  all  thou  smil'st — and  what  is  man,  before  thy  presence,  God? 
A  breath  but  yesterday  inspired, — to-morrow  but  a  clod : 
That  clod  shall  moulder  in  the  vale, — till  kindled,  Lor<h  by  thee, 
Its  spirit  to  thy  arms  shall  spring — to  life, — to  liberty. 


99 


JANUARY. 

Winter  is  come  again.     The  sweet  south-west 
Is  a  forgotten  wind,  and  the  strong  earth 
Has  laid  aside  its  mantle  to  be  bound 
By  the  frost  fetter.     There  is  not  a  sound 
Save  of  the  skater's  heel,  and  there  is  laid 
An  icy  finger  on  the  lip  of  streams, 
And  the  clear  icicle  hangs  cold  and  still : 
And  the  snowfall  is  noiseless  as  a  thought. 
Spring  has  a  rushing  sound,  and  Summer  sends 
Many  sweet  voices  with  its  odours  out, 
And  Autumn  rustleth  its  decaying  robe 
With  a  complaining  whisper.     Winter's  dumb! 
God  made  his  ministry  a  silent  one, 
And  he  has  given  him  a  foot  of  steel, 
And  an  unlovely  aspect,  and  a  breath 
Sharp  to  the  senses — and  we  know  that  He 
Tempereth  well,  and  hath  a  meaning  hid 
Under  the  shadow  of  his  hand.     Look  up! 
And  it  shall  be  interpreted — Your  home 
Hath  a  temptation  now.     There  is  no  voice 
Of  waters  with  beguiling  for  your  ear, 
And  the  cool  forest  and  the  meadows  green 


101 


THE  PRIDE  OF  THE  PEACOCK. 


We  do  not  know  whether  birds  and  beasts  have 
any  of  the  feelings  and  dispositions  of  human  be- 
ings. We  know  that  they  have  not  souls  as  we 
have  ;  nor  will  they  be  judged,  as  we  shall,  for  the 
deeds  done  in  the  body. 

It  is  certain  that  different  animals  have  different 
dispositions  and  tempers.  For  example,  the  sheep 
is  remarkable  for  its  submission  and  timidity,  (Isa. 
liii.  7.)  and  the  lion  for  courage  and  boldness. 
(Prov.  xxviii.  1.)  The  fox  is  distinguished  for  cun- 
ning; the  ass  for  stupidity;  the  elephant  for  sagacity; 
the  ox  for  dulness;  the  dog  for  fidelity,  and  the  cat 
for  duplicity. 

There  is  something  in  the  looks  and  motions  of 
some  animals  that  seem  to  show  their  disposition. 
The  lion  has  a  noble  countenance  ;  he  roams  about 
as  if  conscious  of  superiority,  and  as  if  he  was  not 
afraid  to  be  seen  and  known.     The  wolf,  on  the 


102 

Other  hand,  hides  himself  in  the  day  time ;  he  skulks 
about  in  the  caves  of  the  mountains,  or  in  the  deep 
shades  of  the  forest,  until  night  comes  on,  and  then 
he  secretly  creeps  out  of  his  hiding  place  and  seizes 
a  stray  sheep,  or  works  his  way  silently  through 
the  fold  and  kills  half  a  dozen  of  them. 

Among  birds,  too,  there  is  seen  the  same  differ- 
ence of  character.  The  robin  redbreast  is  a  uni- 
versal favourite,  except  in  cherry  times.  He  sings 
sweetly,  offends  nobody,  and  seems  to  be  a  quiet, 
unsuspicious,  good  natured,  happy  bird.  The  black- 
bird, on  the  contrary,  is  a  quarrelsome  bird,  sings 
coarsely,  and  is  always  upon  the  watch  for  an 
enemy.  The  peacock  is  remarkable  for  pride ;  it 
struts  about  and  displays  itself  all  day,  and  if  it 
could  speak  we  should  expect  to  hear  it  say,  "Am 
I  not  a  beautiful  creature  ?  Do  you  see  my  feathers, 
my  fine  form,  and  the  beautiful  tuft  on  my  head?" 
Here  is  a  picture  of  one. 

The  peacock  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  all 
birds.  On  its  head  is  a  crest  of  greenish  feathers. 
Those  of  the  neck  and  breast  arc  deep  blue  and 
green,  with  a  golden  tinge,  and,  in  different  lights, 
disphiy  a  brilliant  change  of  colouring.     The  most 


103 

remarkable  are  those  situated  near  the  tail.  These 
are  sometimes  as  much  as  four  feet  long;  are 
mostly  carried  down,  but  at  the  pleasure  of  the 
bird  may  be  raised  upright  and  spread  out,  and  then 
present  a  splendid  show  of  colours,  black,  green, 
and  gold,  each  feather  being  ornamented  near  the 
end  with  a  rich  circfe  or  eye.  With  all  this  ex- 
ternal beauty,  the  peacock  has  a  harsh  scream,  and 
is  greedy  and  mischievous  in  its  habits. 

And  so  it  is  among  human  beings.  Pride,  in 
every  form,  is  always  connected  with  some  other 
very  bad  trait.  Sometimes  it  is  selfishness — at 
other  times  envy — now  avarice,  and  then  detrac- 
tion. It  is  always  mean — it  always  makes  one 
miserable — and  it  is  always  dreadfully  punished. 
Read  and  think  of  the  following:  '•  The  fear  of  the 
Lord  is  to  hale  evil :  pride,  and  arrogancy,  and  the 
evil  way,  and  the  froward  mouth,  do  I  hate."  Prov. 
viii.  13.  "  When  pride  cometh,  then  cometh  shame: 
but  with  the  lowly  is  wisdom."  Prov.  xi.  2.  "  Only 
by  pride  cometh  contention :  but  with  the  well  ad- 
vised is  wisdom."  Prov.  xiii.  10.  "  Pride  goeth 
before  destruction,  and  an  haughty  spirit  before  a 


104 

fall."  Prov.  xvi.  18.  "A  man's  pride  shall  bring 
him  low :  but  honour  shall  uphold  the  humble  in 
spirit."  Prov%  xxix.  23.  "  Thefts,  covetousness, 
wickedness,  deceit,  lasciviousness,  an  evil  eye, 
blasphemy,  pride,  foolishness:  all  these  evil  things 
come  from  within  and  defile  the  man."  Mark  vii. 
22,  23.  "  Blessed  is  that  mafi  that  maketh  the  Lord 
his  trust ;  and  respecteth  not  the  proud,  nor  such  as 
turn  aside  to  lies."  Ps.  xl.  4.  "  Whoso  privily 
slandereth  his  neighbour,  him  will  I  cut  off:  him 
that  hath  an  high  look  and  a  proud  heart  will  not  I 
suflcr."  Ps.  ci.  5.  "  Though  the  Lord  be  high,  yet 
hath  he  respect  unto  the  lowly :  but  the  proud  he 
knoweth  afar  off."  Ps.  cxxxviii.  G.  "  A  proud  look, 
a  lying  tongue,  and  hands  that  shed  innocent  blood." 
Prov.  vi.  17.  "Every  one  that  is  proud  in  heart 
is  an  abomination  to  the  Lord:  though  hand  join 
in  hand,  he  shall  not  be  unpunished."  Prov.  xvi.  5. 
"An  high  look,  and  a  proud  heart,  and  the  plough- 
ing of  the  wicked,  is  sin."  Prov.  xxi.  4.  "  But  he 
giveth  more  grace:  wherefore  he  saith,  God  re- 
sisteth  the  proud,  but  giveth  grace  unto  the  hum- 
ble." James  iv.  6. 


105 


ZION  COMFORTED. 

O  ZioN !  afflicted  with  wave  upon  wave, 
Whom  no  man  can  comfort,  whom  no  man  can  save  ; 
With  darkness  surrounded,  by  terrors  dismay'd. 
In  toiling  and  rowing  thy  strength  is  decay'd. 

Loud  roaring,  the  billows  would  thee  overwhelm. 
But  skiltul's  the  pilot  that  sits  at  the  helm ; 
His  wisdom,  his  power,  his  faithfulness  stand 
Engag'd  to  conduct  thee  in  safety  to  land. 

"  O  fearful,  O  faithless,"  in  mercy  he  cries, 
"  My  promise,  my  truth,  are  they  light  in  thine  eyes  ] 
Still,  still  I  am  with  thee,  and  faithful  to  keep, 
Though  seeming,  amid  the  rough  tempest,  to  sleep. 

"  Forget  thee  I  will  not ;  I  cannot  forget 
What  Calvary  witness'd  to  cancel  thy  debt ; 
On  the  palms  of  my  hands,  while  looking,  I  see 
The  wounds  I  received,  in  suffering  for  thee." 

O  Saviour,  we  trust  thee,  our  life  is  secure, 
Thy  wisdom  is  perfect,  supreme  is  thy  power  : 
In  love  thou  correctest,  our  souls  to  refine, 
To  make  us  at  length  in  thy  likeness  to  shine, 
o 


106 

The  foolish,  the  fearful,  the  weak  are  thy  care  ; 
The  helpless,  the  hopeless,  thou  hearest  their  prayer ; 
From  all  our  afflictions  thy  glory  shall  spring, 
The  deeper  our  sorrows,  the  louder  we'll  sing. 


107 


MUMMIES. 


Mummies  are  dead  bodies  preserved  by  embalm- 
ing. Owing  either  to  the  religious  opinions  of  the 
Egyptians,  or  to  the  nature  of  the  country,  which 
rendered  interment  inconvenient,  or  the  want  of  fuel, 
which  rendered  burning  difficult,  they  embalmed  all 
their  dead,  and  deposited  them  in  subterraneous 
chambers,  or  in  grottoes  excavated  in  the  moun- 
tains. An  immense  number  of  them  has  been  found 
in  the  plain  of  Saccara ,  near  Memphis ;  hence  called 
the  'plain  of  the  mummies,  consisting  not  only  of  hu 
man  bodies,  but  of  various  animals,  or  heads  of  ani- 
mals, bulls,  apes,  ibises,  crocodiles,  &c.  Numerous 
caves  or  grottoes,  with  contents  of  the  same  kind, 
are  found  in  the  two  mountainous  ridges  which 
run  nearly  parallel  with  the  Nile  from  Cairo  to 
Syene.  Some  of  the  most  remarkable  of  these 
tombs  are  those  in  the  vicinity  of  ancient  Thebes, 


108 

in  the  Lybian  mountains,  many  of  which  were  ex- 
amined by  Belzoni,  and  those  near  Eleithias  (de- 
scribed by  Hamihon,)  farther  up  the  river,  which, 
though  less  splendid  than  the  Theban  sepulchres, 
contain  more  illustrations  of  the  private  life  of  the 
Egyptians.  The  sepulchral  chambers  are  almost 
entirely  covered  with  fresco  paintings  and  bass- 
reliefs,  and  frequently  contain  statues,  vases,  &c. 
Some  of  them  (the  royal  sepulchres)  consist  of  suites 
of  spacious  halls  and  long  galleries  of  magnificent 
workmanship.  Those  of  private  individuals  vary 
according  to  the  wealth  of  the  deceased,  but  are 
often  very  richly  ornamented.  Many  of  these 
tombs  have  been  ransacked  by  Arabs  for  the  pur- 
pose of  plunder,  and  great  numbers  of  the  mum- 
mies destroyed  for  the  rosin  or  asphaltum  they 
contain,  which  is  sold  to  advantage  in  Cairo.  The 
tombs  and  mummies  are,  many  of  them,  two  or 
three  thousand  years  old,  and  are,  in  part,  indebted 
for  their  preservation  to  the  dryness  of  the  soil  and 
ihe  mildness  of  the  climate.  The  processes  for 
the  preservation  of  the  body  were  very  various. 
Those  of  the  poorer  classes  were  merely  dried  by 
salt  or  nitre,  and  wrapt  up  in  coarse  cloths,  and 


109 

deposited  in  the  catacombs.  The  bodies  of  the 
rich  and  the  great  underwent  the  most  comphcated 
operations,  and  were  laboriously  adorned  with  all 
kinds  of  ornaments.  Embalmers  of  different  ranks 
and  duties  extracted  the  brain  through  the  nostril, 
and  the  entrails  through  an  incision  in  the  side; 
the  body  was  then  shaved,  washed,  and  salted,  and, 
after  a  certain  period,  the  process  of  embalming, 
properly  speaking,  began.  The  whole  body  was 
then  steeped  in  balsam,  and  wrapped  up  in  linen 
bandages ;  each  finger  and  toe  was  separately  en- 
veloped, or  sometimes  sheathed  in  a  gold  case,  and 
the  nails  were  often  gilded.  The  bandages  were 
then  folded  round  each  of  the  limbs,  and  finally 
round  the  whole  body,  to  the  number  of  fifteen  or 
twenty  thicknesses.  The  head  was  the  object  of 
particular  attention;  it  was  sometimes  enveloped 
in  several  folds  of  fine  muslin ;  the  first  was  glued 
to  the  skin,  and  the  others  to  the  first;  the  w'hole 
was  then  coated  with  a  fine  plaster.  A  collar  of 
cylindrical  glass  beads  of  different  colours,  is  at- 
tached to  the  mask  which  covers  the  head,  and 
with  it  is  connected  a  tunic  of  the  same  material. 
The  beads,  both  in  the  collar  and  tunic,  are  so  ar- 


110 

ranged  as  to  form  images  of  divinities,  of  the  sca- 
rabaeus,  the  winged  globe,  &c.  Instead  of  this, 
the  mummy  is  sometimes  contained  in  a  sort  of 
sheath,  made  of  paper  or  Unen,  and  coated  with  a 
layer  of  plaster,  on  which  are  paintings  and  gild- 
ing. These  paintings  represent  subjects  relating 
to  the  duties  of  the  soul,  its  presentation  to  the  dif- 
ferent divinities;  and  a  perpendicular  hierogly- 
phical  inscription  in  the  centre  gives  the  name  of 
the  deceased,  and  of  his  relations,  his  tides,  &c. 
The  whole  is  then  placed  in  the  coffin.  Those 
mummies  which  have  been  examined  present  very 
different  appearances.  One  class  has  an  opening 
in  the  left  side,  under  the  armpit,  and  in  another 
the  body  is  whole.  Some  of  those  which  have 
been  opened  have  been  dried  by  vegetable  and  bal- 
samic substances,  others  by  salt.  In  the  former 
case,  aromatic  gums  or  asphaltum  were  used  (the 
gums,  when  thrown  into  the  fire,  give  out  an  aro- 
matic odor) ;  in  these  the  teeth  and  hair  are  gene- 
rally preserved ;  but  if  exposed  to  the  air,  they  are 
soon  aflbcted.  Those  prepared  with  asphaltum  are 
of  a  reddish  colour,  and  are  in  good  preservation. 
Tliose  dried  with  saline  substances  are  of  a  black, 


Ill 

hard,  smooth  appearance.  On  exposure  to  the  air, 
they  attract  moisture,  and  become  covered  with  a 
saline  substance.  Those  mummies  which  have  no 
opening  are  also  partly  preserved  by  saline  sub- 
stances, and  partly  by  asphaltum.  In  the  latter,  not 
only  the  cavities  of  the  body  are  filled  with  it,  but 
the  flesh,  bones,  and  every  part,  seem  to  be  pene- 
trated by  it;  it  was  probably  injected  in  a  hot 
state.  These  are  the  most  commonly  met  with. 
They  are  hard,  black,  and  without  any  disagree- 
able smell.  The  whole  mummies  prepared  with 
salt  alone  are  white  and  smooth,  and  resemble 
parchment.  The  coffin  is  usually  of  sycamore, 
cedar,  or  pasteboard ;  the  case  is  entire,  and  cover- 
ed, within  and  without,  by  paintings,  representing 
funeral  scenes,  and  a  great  variety  of  other  sub- 
jects: the  name  of  the  deceased  is  also  repeated  on 
them  in  hieroglyphic  characters.  The  cover,  which 
is  also  entire,  is  ornamented  in  the  same  manner, 
and  contains,  too,  the  countenance  of  the  deceased 
in  relief,  painted,  and  often  gilded.  The  breast  is 
covered  with  a  large  collar ;  a  perpendicular  in- 
scription occupies  the  centre,  and  funeral  scenes 
the  sides.    The  coffin  is  often  enclosed  in  a  second, 


112 

and  even  third  case,  eacJi  of  whicli  is  also  orna- 
mented with  similar  representations. 

The  name  of  mu7n?7iies  is  likewise  given  to  human 
bodies  preserved  in  other  ways,  either  by  accident 
or  by  some  artificial  preparations.  The  Guanches, 
or  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  the  Canaries,  preserved 
the  bodies  of  their  deceased  friends,  which  have 
been  found  in  great  multitudes  in  the  catacombs  in 
Palma,  Ferro,  Tenerifle,  &c.  The  natives  called 
them  xaxos.  They  are  dry,  light,  of  a  yellow  co- 
lour and  strong  odour,  and  often  injured  by  worms; 
they  are  enveloped  in  goat  skins,  and  enclosed  in 
cases.  They  ai'e  supposed  to  have  been  dried  in 
the  air,  after  having  had  the  entrails  removed  ;  and 
they  were  also  covered  with  a  sort  of  aromatic 
varnish.  Humboldt  found  mummies  prepared  in  a 
similar  manner  in  Mexico.  The  Peruvians,  also, 
had  the  art  of  preserving  the  bodies  of  their  Incas. 
Mummies  were  formerly  used  in  medicine,  on  ac- 
count of  the  i)alsam  tliey  contained  ;  but  they  have 
long  ceased  to  be  so  emj)loyed.  The  burying-place 
of  the  Capuchin  monastery,  at  Palermo  in  Sicily,  is 
a  large  subterranean  vault,  divided  into  several  wide 


113 

and  lofty  galleries,  in  the  walls  of  which  are  niches 
containing  several  hundred  human  bodies,  kept  in 
an  upright  position  by  being  fastened  to  the  wall  be- 
hind, and  clothed  in  their  usual  dress.  The  monks 
have  a  peculiar  manner  of  preserving  bodies,  which 
they  keep  secret.  Naiural  mummies  are  frequently 
found  preserved  by  the  dryness  of  the  air.  In  a 
vault  of  the  cathedral  at  Bremen,  called  the  lead- 
cellar  (because  it  was  formerly  employed  for  melt- 
ing lead,  for  aqueducts  and  organ  pipes),  are 
bodies  in  good  preservation.  In  the  monastery  of 
St.  Bernard,  on  mount  St.  Bernard,  the  bodies  of 
travellers  who  have  been  buried  in  the  snow,  are 
deposited  in  a  chapel,  in  which  there  are  open 
windows,  protected  by  grates.  They  are  placed 
in  a  sitting  position,  leaning  each  on  another's 
breast.  The  cold  prevents  their  putrefaction,  and 
gives  them  time  to  dry.  The  Gaulish  mummies, 
in  the  cabinet  of  comparative  anatomy,  in  the  Jar- 
din  du  Roi,  were  found  in  Auvergne,  in  the  last 
century.  They  bear  no  marks  of  any  balsamic 
preparation,  but  are  enveloped  in  linen,  and  appear 
to  have  been  interred  with  great  care.     It  is  un- 

p 


114 

certain  whether  their  preservation  was  owing  to 
the  nature  of  the  soil,  or  to  a  pecuUar  and  now 
unknown  process  of  embahiiing.  Dried  bodies 
have  also  been  found  in  some  of  the  saltpetre  caves 
of  the  western  part  of  the  United  States. 


115 


ON  HEARING  THE  CLOCK  STRIKE  TWELVE 
AT  NIGHT,  DECEMBER  31. 

Knell  of  departed  years, 
Thy  voice  is  sweet  to  me ; 
It  wakes  no  sad  foreboding  fears. 
Calls  forth  no  sympathetic  tears, 

Time's  restless  course  to  see ; 
From  hallo w'd  ground 
I  hear  the  sound 
Diifusing  through  the  air  a  holy  calm  around. 

Thou  art  the  voice  of  Love  ; 
To  cliide  each  doubt  away; 
And  as  the  murmur  gently  dies, 
Visions  of  past  enjoyments  rise 
In  long  and  bright  array: 
I  hail  the  sign, 
That  love  divine 
Will  o'er  my  future  path  in  cloudless  mercy  shine. 

Thou  art  the  voice  of  Hope; 
The  music  of  the  spheres — 
A  song  of  blessing  yet  to  come, 
A  herald  from  my  future  home, 
My  soul  delighted  hears: 


117 


SINGULAR    ANIMALS. 


We  here  present  our  readers  with  accurate  re- 
presentations of  two  animals  that  have  never  been 
seen  in  this  country.  The  first  is  the  Sukotyro, 
of  which  there  is  only  one  species  known.  It  has 
an  upright  mane,  which  is  short  and  narrow,  reach- 
ing from  the  top  of  the  head  to  the  rump.  Niew- 
hoff,  a  Dutch  traveller,  who  visited  the  East  Indies 
in  1563,  describes  it  as  about  the  size  of  an  ox ;  the 
snout  like  that  of  a  hog  ;  the  ears  long  and  rough ; 
the  tail  thick  and  bushy ;  and  the  eyes  placed  up- 
right in  the  head,  quite  differently  from  those  of 
other  quadrupeds.  From  each  side  of  the  head, 
near  the  ears,  project  two  long  horns,  like  tushes. 
It  feeds  on  grass  and  herbs,  and  is  very  difficult  to 
take.  Some  naturalists  doubt,  however,  whether 
such  an  animal  exists. 


118 

The  other  is  the  Cape  Cat.  This  animal  has  a 
long  tail  with  black  rings ;  the  ears  are  erect,  and 
edged  with  white.  It  is  about  the  size  of  a  dog ; 
and  its  coat  is  of  a  bright  tawny  colour,  varied  and 
striped  like  a  tiger's.  Its  appearance  would  make 
us  think  it  was  a  fierce  and  cruel  animal,  but  it  is 
really  cowardly,  and  gets  its  prey  by  sly  and  cun- 
ning arts.  It  is  found  chiefly  at  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope,  and  in  a  wild  state  is  very  destructive  of 
hares,  rabbits,  young  antelopes,  and  Iambs. 


% 


119 


MY  GOD,  ALL  NATURE  OWNS  THY  SWAY 

My  God,  all  nature  owns  thy  sway ; 
Thou  givest  the  night,  and  thou  the  day : 
When  all  thy  loved  creation  wakes, 
When  morning,  rich  in  lustre,  breaks. 
And  bathes  in  dew  the  opening  flower, 
To  thee  we  owe  her  fragrant  hour ; 
And  when  she  pours  her  choral  song. 
Her  melodies  to  thee  belong. 

Or  when  in  paler  tints  arrayed. 
The  evening  slowly  spreads  her  shade  ; 
That  soothing  shade,  that  grateful  gloom, 
Can,  more  than  day's  enlivening  bloom. 
Still  every  fond  and  vain  desire. 
And  calmer,  purer  thoughts  inspire ; 
From  earth  the  pensive  spirit  free, 
And  lead  the  softened  heart  to  thee. 

In  every  scene  thy  hands  have  drest, 

In  every  form  by  thee  imprest, 

Upon  the  mountain's  awful  head, 

Or  where  the  sheltering  woods  are  spread  ; 


120 

In  every  note  that  swells  the  gale, 
Or  tuneful  stream  that  cheers  the  vale, 
The  caverns  depth,  or  echoing  grove, 
A  voice  is  heard  of  praise  and  love. 

As  o'er  thy  work  the  seasons  roll. 
And  sooth,  with  change  of  bliss,  the  soul ; 
Oh,  never  may  their  smiling  train 
Pass  o'er  the  human  scene  in  vain ! 
But  oft  as  on  the  charm  we  gaze, 
Attune  the  wondering  soul  to  praise ; 
And  be  the  joys  that  most  we  prize, 
Those  joys  that  from  thy  favour  rise. 


121 


THE    DEATH    AT   SEA. 

Miss  Harriet  Patterson,  daughter  of  Commodore  Patterson, 
died  on  shipboai-d,  a  few  days  before  the  frig-ate,  in  which  she 
sailed,  reached  Norfolk.  The  following-  notice  of  the  event, 
from  a  recent  volume,  is  worthy  of  preservation. 

There  was  one  who  often  accompanied  us  in 
our  diversions  along  the  shores  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean ;  one  who  frequently  gave  to  such  occasions 
an  interest  beyond  the  object  which  lured  our 
steps;  one  who  would  light  up  the  most  common 
themes  with  her  sparkling  gems  of  thought,  or 
supply  the  worn  topics  with  others,  brilliant  and 
fresh  from  recollection  and  fancy;  one  who  made 
others  happy  without  seeming  to  be  conscious  that 
she  was  the  source ;  and  who  ever  delicately 
evaded,  as  if  misplaced,  the  admiration  her  youth, 
genius,  and  beauty  awakened;  who  now,  alas! 
has  left  us  for  ever !  She  has  gone  from  the  circle 
of  our  friendship,  and  the  hearth  of  her  fond  father, 
to  return  no  more !     Over  the  pleading  youth  of 


122 

her  age,  and  the  retaining  force  of  her  affection, 
death  has  sadly  triumphed  ! 

The  dehcate  virtues  that  had  bloomed,  and  those 
that  were  timidly  expanding  to  the  light,  have 
perished  from  the  earth !  The  form  that  moved 
so  lightly;  the  eye  that  beamed  with  such  tender- 
ness and  hope;  the  lips  that  ever  breathed  the  ac- 
cents of  gentleness  and  truth ;  the  rich  locks  that 
rendered  the  cheeks  still  more  transparent,  in  the 
rehef  of  their  raven  darkness;  and  the  face  filled 
with  the  expressions  of  sweetness  and  beauty,  and 
where  no  frown  ever  cast  its  shadow — all  have 
gone  down  into  the  silent  recesses  of  the  grave  ! 

The  ship  in  which  she  had  traversed  the  ocean 
where  she  had  seen  the  wonders  of  God  displayed 
in  the  deep — had  returned  from  its  long  absence; 
the  green  hills  of  her  native  land  were  breaking 
the  horizon;  another  day,  and  she  would  tread  that 
beloved  shore.  Many  were  gathered  there  to 
whom  she  was  tenderly  alHed,  and  who  waited  to 
embrace  her  with  a  sister's  yearning  love;  she  had 
redeemed  the  pledge  in  which  thev  parted;  and 
often  beguiled  their  lonely  hours  with  the  graj^hio 
beauties  of  her  pen,  they  now  waited  to  enfold  her 


123 

in  their  arms,  and  half  blamed  the  breeze  that 
brought  the  ship  so  slowly  to  her  anchor. 

They  were  the  first  on  board,  and  sought  first 
the  one  they  most  loved  !  Alas  !  the  pale  form  was 
there,  but  the  spirit  that  gave  it  light  and  anima- 
tion had  fled!  Still  the  tokens  of  its  peaceful  de- 
parture lingered  in  the  sweet  composure  of  her 
face;  the  calm  brow  was  still  written  with  thought; 
the  cheek  softly  tinged  with  the  dreams  of  her  rest. 
They  had  come  to  greet  her,  to  hear  her  speak 
and  welcome  her  home ;  but  the  only  office  that 
now  remained,  was  to  consign  to  the  earth  this 
beautiful  relict.  With  breaking  hearts,  they  dress- 
ed her  grave  on  the  banks  of  that  stream  where 
she  strayed  in  her  childhood,  and  where  long  the 
melancholy  wave  will  murmur  the  music  of  her 
name. 

What  avails  it  now  that  she  so  widely  surveyed 
the  scenes  which  lend  attraction  to  other  shores? 
that  she  wandered  among  the  hills  of  Greece,  and 
gazed  on  the  bright  isles  of  the  JEgean  ?  that  she 
lifted  her  eye  to  the  solemn  dome  of  St.  Sophia, 
and  walked  in  the  deep  shadows  of  the  Colosseum 
at  Rome?  that  she  saw  Venice  emerging  in  splen- 


124 

dour  from  the  waves,  and  Etna  still  sending  up  its 
steep  column  of  cloud?  that  she  glanced  through 
the  gay  saloons  of  Parisian  pride;  lingered  along 
the  banks  of  the  Nile  ?  that  she  surveyed  the  pyra- 
mids of  mouldering  Egypt,  and  made  her  pilgrim- 
age to  the  desolate  city  of  David  ?  that  she  stood 
in  the  garden  where  persecuted  love  resigned 
itself  to  the  bitterness  of  its  cup — on  that  mount 
where  the  innocent  suffered,  that  the  guilty  might 
live — and  by  that  tomb  which  once  sepulchred  the 
Hope  of  the  world  ? 

Ah!  these  availed  her;  for  these  mementos  of  a 
dying  Saviour's  affection,  and  of  his  triumph  over 
death,  were  themes  upon  which  her  latest  and 
fondest  thoughts  dwelt ;  she  knew  at  length  that 
her  hour  had  come,  but  her  confidence  in  the  faith- 
fulness of  the  Redeemer  made  her  a  stranger  to 
dismay;  she  felt  that  she  was  passing  beyond  the 
assiduities  of  mortal  friendship  and  affection;  but 
she  cast  herself,  resignedly,  upon  the  love  of  this 
compassionate  Jesus.  Her  last,  faint  accents  whis- 
pered of  the  cross,  and  of  that  land  where  tears 
and  farewells  are  unknown. 

Shall  we  see  one  dying  so  young,  and  with  so 


125 

many  objects  to  attach  her  to  hfe,  and  not  be  re- 
minded of  the  hastening  hour  when  we  must  follow 
her?  Shall  the  admonition  that  tenderly  speaks 
from  her  grave,  be  lightly  regarded  ?  Shall  the 
seraphic  look  in  which  she  died  be  soon  forgotten? 
Shall  the  religion,  displaying  the  sight  of  her  re- 
signation and  triumphant  hopes,  continue  to  be  a 
stranger  to  these  hearts  1  If  one  so  faultless 
could  not  die  without  the  light  of  a  Saviour's  love, 
how  shall  we,  in  our  sins  of  deeper  shade,  meet 
the  King  of  Terrors  ?  Ah  !  there  is  only  one  be- 
ing that  can  sustain  in  that  last  hour  of  need;  only 
one  that  can  furnish,  in  this  extremity  of  nature,  a 
refuge  for  the  soul.  This  one  has  long  been  near 
us,  waiting  to  be  gracious;  he  has  tarried  without, 
suing  for  admission  to  our  confidence,  till  his  locks 
are  wet  with  the  drops  of  the  night. — Happy  he 
who  admits  this  Saviour  to  his  inmost  heart.  Death 
may  then  break  down  and  lay  in  ruins  this  moi-tal 
form ;  but  the  spirit  will  have  given  it  "  the  wings 
of  the  dove,  that  it  may  fly  away  and  be  at  rest." 


126 


CHRIST  MANIFESTED. 

Sons  of  men,  behold  him  far, 
Hail  the  long  expected  star  ! 
Jacob's  star  that  gilds  the  night, 
Guides  bevvilder'd  nature  right. 

Fear  not  hence  that  ill  should  flow, 
Wars  or  pestilence  below ; 
Wars  and  tumults  now  must  cease, 
Ushering  in  the  Prince  of  Peace. 

Nations  all  the  earth  abroad, 
Haste  and  own  the  incarnate  God  ; 
Haste,  for  him  your  hearts  prepare, 

Meet  him  manifested  there. 

There  behold  the  day-spring  rise, 
Pouring  light  on  blinded  eyes ; 
God  in  his  own  light  survey, 
Shining  to  the  perfect  day. 

Sing,  ye  morning  stars,  again, 
God  descends  on  eartli  to  reign  ; 
Deigns  for  man  his  life  t'  employ  ; 
Shout,  ye  sons  of  God,  for  joy  ! 


127 


THE  PROMISE  OF  A  SAVIOUR. 


There  are  many  things  in  the  Bible  which  are 
fiard  to  be  understood  and  hard  to  believe;  but  if 
we  are  sure  they  are  a  part  of  the  Bible,  and  that 
the  Bible  is  true,  we  are  bound  to  believe  them; 
and  when  we  find  doubts  arising  in  our  minds,  we 
must  pray  as  a  man  once  prayed  to  Jesus  Christ, 
when  he  was  upon  earth — "  Lord,  I  believe,  help 
thou  mine  unbelief."  Mark  ix.  24. 

Sometimes  we  find  evidence  to  confirm  the 
truths  of  the  Bible,  in  the  condition  of  the  earth 
and  in  the  history  of  man.  People  who  are  fully 
acquainted  with  the  subject  tell  us,  that  an  exami- 
nation of  the  substance  of  the  earth  shows  clearly 
that  at  some  time  or  other  there  must  have  been  a 
dreadful  convulsion  and  breaking  up  of  its  surface, 
by  which  the  beds  of  oceans  were  turned  into  dry 
land,  and  dry  land  was  cov^ered  with  oceans ;  moun- 
tains sunk  into  valleys,  and  valleys  rose  into  moun- 


128 

tains.  Besides  tliis,  the  various  religions  of  the 
heathen  world  notice  such  an  event  as  the  flood, 
and  give  various  accounts  of  it,  all  agreeing  in  the 
general  fact  with  the  Bible  history. 

So  also  the  story  of  the  fall  of  our  first  parents, 
and  of  the  promise  of  a  Saviour,  is  confirmed  by 
many  circumstances  in  the  worship  of  eastern  na- 
tions. There  is  one  system,  prevailing  among 
many  millions  of  men,  which  represents  their  great 
deity  as  taking  upon  him  a  human  form,  and  coming 
into  the  world  to  contend  with  a  great  serpent. 
The  accompanying  picture  represents  him,  first,  as 
snfiering  from  the  bite  of  the  serpent  in  tiic  heel, 
and  then  as  crushing  the  serpent's  head  with  his  foot. 
What  could  more  perfectly  illustrate  the  promise 
and  the  curse  which  is  mentioned  in  Gen.  iii.  14,  15: 
"  And  the  Lord  God  said  unto  tiie  serpent.  Because 
thou  hast  done  this,  thou  art  cin*sed  above  all  cattle, 
and  aboveeverybeastof  the  field:  upon  thy  belly  shalt 
thou  go,  and  dust  shalt  thou  eat  all  the  days  of  thy 
life.  And  I  will  put  enmity  between  thee  and  the 
woman,  and  between  thy  seed  and  her  seed :  it 
shall  bruise  thy  head,  and  thou  shalt  bruise  his 
heel." 


129 


THE  MISSION  FROM  THE  HEATHEN. 

A  white  man  had  informed  the  Flat-head  Indians,  who  re- 
side west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  that  their  mode  of  worship- 
ping the  Supreme  Being  was  radically  wrong;  and  that  the 
whites  were  in  possession  of  the  true  mode  of  worship.  Upon 
receiving  this  information  they  called  a  council,  and  deputed 
four  of  their  chiefs  to  go  to  the  white  man's  country,  3000 
miles  distant,  and  learn  the  true  religion.  They  came,  and 
obtained  the  desired  information. — Two  only  lived  to  set  out 
for  their  native  land ;  but  whether  they  ever  arrived  there  is 
unknown. 

The  council  fire  is  gleaming  bright 

On  forest,  hill,  and  glen ; 
And  they  are  gathering  by  its  light, 

A  race  of  dark-browed  men. 
But  not  to  tell  of  warlike  deed. 

Or  join  in  martial  song, 
Nor  yet  to  claim  a  warrior's  meed. 

Comes  one  among  the  throng. 

But  all  by  early  dawn  are  tiiere. 

With  heart  and  purpose  one. 
The  grandsire  with  his  faded  hair, 

The  father  and  the  son. 
R 


130 

The  pale-faced  stranger's  words  are  told 

To  many  a  listening  ear, 
And  vainly  wish  the  young,  the  old, 

More  of  those  truths  to  hear. 

Four  chieftains  of  the  tribe  they  send 

To  the  white  man's  distant  heartii ; 
One — who  the  strongest  bow  can  bend, 

And  one — of  noblest  worth  ; 
One — who  is  fleetest  in  the  chase, 

And  one — the  eagle  eyed. 
And  bid  them  bring  their  waiting  race 

The  white  man's  spirit's  guide. 

Cheerful  of  heart,  and  free  of  foot, 

The  chieftains  wend  their  way, 
Nor  cast  one  longing,  lingering  look 

To  the  home  of  yesterday. 
That  home  so  dear  is  now  forgot, 

Mother  and  sister  too, 
Nor  bid  they  e'en  in  silent  thought 

Tlieir  dearest  ones  adieu. 

True,  many  a  river  must  be  crossed, 

And  many  a  prairie  wild, 
And  many  a  mountain's  brow  of  frost. 

And  many  a  valley  mild, — 
And  many  a  sigh  of  pain  suppressed, 

And  many  a  toil  be  borne, 


131 

Ere  these  red  children  of  the  west 
Can  reach  the  white  man's  home. 

But  what  care  they  for  toil  or  pain  ] 

Inured  to  such  from  youth  ; 
They  do  not  go  on  errand  vain, 

They  go  to  seek  the  truth. 
Days,  weeks  and  months  have  glided  by 

Since  they  their  course  begun  ; 
The  stranger's  fields  before  them  lie — 

The  distant  goal  is  won. 

The  white  man  hears  their  thrilling  tale 

With  gladness  and  surprise  ; 
And  tears  away  the  misty  veil 

From  their  benighted  eyes. 
Eager  they  listen  to  his  words, 

And  joyfully  receive 
The  hopes  a  Saviour's  death  affords — 

And  every  truth  believe. 

Two  chieftains  of  the  four  were  left — 

A  lonely,  feeble  pair ; 
Back  to  the  children  of  the  west 

Those  blessed  truths  to  bear. 
And  they  perhaps  have  perished  too, 

Unaided  and  alone. 
Ere  the  bright  hills  had  met  their  view 

Of  tlieir  beloved  home. 


132 

Christian  ! — to  these  poor  Indians  go, 

With  words  of  peace  and  love  ; 
Their  anxious  bosoms  burn  to  know 

More  of  thy  God  above. 
Will  you  not  tread  the  lonely  wild, 

These  willing  chieftains  trod  1 
Then  haste  to  bear  the  forest  child 

The  blessed  word  of  God. 

Recount  the  treasures  you  possess, 

The  joy  your  bosom  feels, — 
The  hopes  that  cheer  you  in  distress- 

The  heaven  that  faith  reveals. 
Tell  how  a  Saviour  bled  and  died, 

That  they  might  ever  live  ; 
The  Indian  must  not  bo  denied 

The  blessings  you  can  give. 

Wlien  shall  a  missionary's  soul 

Each  Christian's  breast  pervade  ? 
When  shall  the  glorious  tidings  roll, 

By  fervent  Cliristians'  aid, 
Of  peace  and  joy,  good  will  to  men, 

O'er  all  the  distant  earth'? 
And  angels  sing  the  song  again 

Sung  at  the  Saviour's  birth. 


133 


GOOD    NEWS. 


A    CHRISTMAS    PIECE. 


To  those  engaged  in  an  unequal  contest  and  dis- 
astrous war,  the  proclamation  of  a  willingness  to 
enter  into  negotiations  of  peace  on  the  part  of  the 
stronger  power  is  always  good  news  to  the  weak- 
er. Between  God,  the  Creator  and  Governor  of 
the  world,  and  man,  the  creature  of  his  power, 
and  the  dependent  on  his  will,  there  have  existed 
hostilities  ever  since  the  first  transgression  of  man. 
God  is  able  to  inflict  condign  punishment  on  man 
at  any  moment ;  and  if  he  turn  not,  he  will  cer- 
tainly do  it  sooner  or  later ;  but  while  no  obstacle 
stands  in  the  way  of  his  crushing  his  feeble  ene- 
mies at  a  stroke,  his  long-suffering  endures  with 
them;  and  instead  of  a  storm  of  deserved  wrath, 
he  issues  a  proclamation  of  peace  and  good  will. 
It  is  a  thing  wonderful,  and  calculated  to  excite 
our  highest  gratitude,  that  a  plan  of  reconciliation 
has  been  devised,  which  at  the  same  time  that  it 


134 


secures  the  salvation  of  man,  no  less  consults  the 
honour  of  God. 

It  is  GOOD  NEWS  to  rebellious  subjects,  who  have 
foolishly  and  inconsiderately  cast  oft'  their  allegi- 
ance to  their  sovereign,  and  have  exposed  them- 
selves to  the  severest  penalties  of  the  law,  to  hear 
from  good  authority  that  an  ambassador  of  peace 
has  arrived,  and  that  he  comes  clothed  with  full 
powers  to  conclude  an  advantageous  peace  with 
all  wdio  are  willing  to  submit  to  his  most  just  and 
reasonable  terms;  and  especially  it  would  render 
the  tidings  more  joyful  if  this  plenipotentiary 
should  be  no  other  than  the  king's  own  son.  This 
would  be  an  instance  of  extraordinary  condescen- 
sion, and  would  evince  to  all  the  sincerity  and  ear- 
nestness of  his  desire  for  reconciliation.  The  Kintr 
of  Heaven  has  a  Son,  only-begotten  and  well-be- 
loved, and  who  participated  in  all  his  glory,  power, 
and  felicity;  and  yet  he  has  sent  him  on  this  mis- 
sion of  peace.  Other  messengers  were  sent  to 
announce  his  coming;  but  to  none  of  these  was 
committed  the  important  business  of  reconciling 
rebellious  men:  this  was  reserved  as  the  peculiar 
work  of  the  Son;  and  indeed,  no  other  possessed 


135 

the  requisite  qualifications.     The  case  was  one  of 
peculiar  difficulty:  the  mere  exertion  of  omnipo- 
tence or  any  other  divine  attribute  was  not  sulR- 
cient.    Offended  majesty  must  be  appeased,  injured 
justice  satisfied,  and  a  broken  law  honoured.     The 
celestial  missionary  must  not  merely  pay  a  tran- 
sient visit  of  mercy  to  our  earth,  as  the  angels 
often  have  done;  but  he  must  himself  become  one 
of  us — be  made  in  all  respects  like  us — be  born  in 
our  nature,  and  sojourn  a  lifetime  in  this  miserable 
world,  exposed  to  all  the  injuries  and  calumnies 
which  malignant  vice  is  disposed  to  heap  on  spot- 
less innocence.     The  mission   has  been  executed; 
the  wonderful  child  of  promise  has  been  born;  the 
divine  and  human  natures  have  been  united  in  the 
same  person;  a  holy  virgin  became  the  mother  of 
a  child,  properly  called  the  Son  of  God,  and  Im- 
manuel,  God  with   us.     Eighteen  hundred  years 
ago,  in  Bethlehem  of  Judea,  this  Almighty  Saviour 
was  ushered  into  the  world.     The  inhabitants  of 
earth  were  little  aware  of  the   grand  event,  in 
which  they  had  so  deep  an  interest:   but  the  hea- 
venly hosts  were  apprized  of  the  joyous  transac- 
tion; and  though  not  in  need  of  a  Deliverer  them- 


136 

selves,  they  rejoiced  in  the  glorious  event.  By  one 
of  these  bright  sons  of  the  morning,  the  good  news 
was  announced  to  the  shepherds,  who  were  watch- 
ing near  the  place,  and  a  multitude  of  the  heavenly 
host  soon  united  with  the  one  who  had  appeared, 
and  they  sang  an  anthem  adapted  to  tiie  occasion, 
in  the  sweet  and  sublime  music  of  heaven.  The 
melody  of  their  song  is  gone :  it  was  an  air  which 
mortal  tongues  cannot  imitate;  but  the  words  of 
this  divine  song  were  recorded,  and  have  come 
down  to  us  unaltered;  and  no  words  can  be  more 
delightful;  "  glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on 

EARTH  peace,  GOOD  WH^L  TOWARDS  MEN." 

Now  although  this  event  occurred  so  long  ago, 
and  in  a  country  so  remote,  yet  its  interesting  and 
important  nature  is  not  in  the  least  diininislied.  It 
has  already  gladdened  the  hearts  of  millions  of  our 
perishing  race,  and  it  is  still  heard,  and  will  ever 
be  heard  with  a  thrill  of  delight  and  admiration  by 
sinners  condemned  to  die.  Tiiis  single  event,  which 
occurred  in  a  small  village  in  a  remote  country,  is 
more  to  us  than  all  the  great  revolutions  of  em- 
pires. It  matters  not  who  then  sat  upon  the  im- 
perial throne  at  Rome;  or  who  held  the  reins  of 


137 

government  at  Jerusalem ;  none  of  these  things  can 
now  be  considered  as  furnishing  glad  tidings  for 
men  in  the  present  generation;  but  to  be  assured 
that  eighteen  centuries  ago  a  Saviour  was  born  in 
Bethlehem,  even  Christ  the  Lord,  is  a  source  of 
unspeakable  joy  to  every  one  who  has  a  heart  to 
appreciate  it.  We  may  still  proclaim  and  reiterate 
the  message  of  the  angel,  glad  tidings — glad  ti- 
dings; a  Saviour  has  been  born,  a  Saviour  still 
exists.  Sinners  need  not  despair:  God  is  recon- 
ciling the  world  unto  himself  by  Jesus  Christ,  not 
imputing  their  trespasses  unto  them.  The  way  to 
heaven  is  no  longer  closed;  the  fiery  sword  of  jus- 
tice no  longer  keeps  the  way  of  the  tree  of  life ; 
man  need  remain  no  longer  under  the  heavy  curse 
of  the  violated  covenant.  O  sinner,  convinced, 
awakened  sinner,  who  art  earnestly  inquiring 
"  What  must  I  do  V  here  is  good  news  for  thee. 
Here  is  a  balm  for  the  wounded  conscience,  and 
liberty  for  the  captives.  Look  no  longer  to  the 
law  of  works  for  salvation ;  for  through  our  sin 
the  law  has  become  weak  to  save;  it  can  never 
more  confer  life  on  fallen  man.  All  our  hopes 
must  be  placed  on  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem.    Come 

s 


138 

let  us  go,  as  it  were,  with  the  shepherds,  and  see 
the  wonderful  child;  and  let  us  fall  down  in  hum- 
ble, grateful  adoration  before  him,  and  acknow- 
ledge him  as  our  Lord,  and  claim  him  as  our 
Redeemer;  or  let  us  follow  the  eastern  star  which 
gave  notice  of  his  birth  to  the  sages  of  a  distant 
country,  and  let  us  follow  its  guidance  until  it 
brings  us  to  the  spot  where  our  Saviour  may  be 
found;  and  let  the  glad  tidings  of  tiie  existence  of 
a  divine  Saviour  be  circulated  around  the  globe; 
let  all  who  need  his  aid  be  informed  that  he  is 
actually  come — was  born  in  Bethlehem,  the  city 
of  David,  and  has  performed  the  work  for  which 
he  was  commissioned;  has  brought  life  and  im- 
mortality to  light ;  has  obtained  eternal  redemp- 
tion for  us ;  and  has  returned  again  to  heaven, 
where  he  is  still  a  Prince  and  Saviour,  and  is  able 
to  save  to  the  uttermost  all  tiiat  come  unto  God 
by  him ;  seeing  he  ever  livcth  to  make  intercession 
ibr  them. 


139 


TRUST  IN  THE  LORD. 

When  gathering'  clouds  around  I  view, 
And  days  are  dark  and  friends  are  few ; 
On  him  I  lean,  who  not  in  vain 
Experienced  every  human  pain. 
He  sees  my  griefs,  allays  my  fears, 
And  counts  and  treasures  up  my  tears. 

If  anght  should  tempt  my  soul  to  stray 
From  heavenly  wisdom's  narrow  way  ; 
To  fly  the  good  I  would  pursue, 
Or  do  the  thing  I  would  not  do ; 
Still  he  who  felt  temptation's  power, 
Shall  guard  me  in  that  dangerous  hour. 

If  wounded  love  my  bosom  swell. 
Despised  by  those  I  prized  too  well. 
He  shall  his  pitying  aid  bestow, 
Who  felt  on  earth  severer  wo ; 
At  once  betrayed,  denied,  or  fled, 
By  those  who  shared  his  daily  bread. 

When  painful  thoughts  within  me  rise, 
And  sore  dismayed  my  spirit  dies, 


140 

Yet  he  who  once  vouchsafed  to  hear 
The  sickening  anguish  of  despair, 
Shall  sweetly  sooth,  shall  gently  dry, 
The  throbbing  heart,  the  streaming  eye. 

When  sorrowing  o'er  some  tomb  I  bend, 
Which  covers  all  that  was  a  friend. 
And  from  his  voice,  his  hands,  his  smile, 
Divides  me  for  a  little  while ; 
Thou  Saviour,  seest  the  tears  I  shed, 
For  thou  didst  weep  o'er  Lazarus  dead. 

And  oh  !  when  I  have  safely  past 
Througii  every  conflict  but  the  last, 
Still,  still  unchanging,  watch  beside 
My  painful  bed — for  thou  hast  died ; 
Then  point  to  realms  of  cloudless  day, 
And  wipe  the  latest  tear  away. 


141 


WILL   YOU    GO? 


Some  people  say  they  are  not  to  be  frightened  by 
what  they  are  told  about  hell.  They  will  acknow- 
ledge that  they  are  not  fit  for  heaven,  but  comfort 
themselves  with  the  belief  that  the  punishment  of 
the  wicked  will  not  be  so  bad  as  is  represented. 

I  wish  such  persons  could  be  brought  to  reflect 
on  what  any  place  must  be  where  the  wicked  shall 
be  together  for  ever!  For  that  is  the  least  that 
can  be  said  of  the  place  of  punishment.  Let  it  be 
even  supposed  that  the  world  of  misery,  instead  of 
being  a  dismal  gulf,  or  a  lake  of  fire,  is  such  a 
place  as  this  earth.  Let  the  sinner  imagine  it  to 
be  as  beautiful  as  Eden  itself — I  only  ask  him  to 
acknowledge  this  one  thing,  that  none  hut  the  ene- 
mies of  God  inlJ  he  there.  And  I  say  this  is  a  hell 
dreadful  enough  to  terrify  the  stoutest  heart. 

Think  of  it!  All  that  is  now  frightful  in  wicked- 
ness will  be  there.  Do  men  now  fear  to  meet  a 
murderer  or  a  robber?  How  will  they  feel  when 
they  are  placed  in  their  society  for  ever?   Do  they 


142 

now  shun  the  drunkard,  the  debauched  and  the 
vile?  But  hell  is  the  eternal  home  of  such.  Who 
would  be  willing  to  live  with  such  persons  as  oc- 
cupy our  prisons,  although  they  should  dwell  in 
palaces?  Would  not  any  place  be  intolerable  with 
such  society  only? 

But  such  will  be  hell,  and  worse.  For  in  this 
world,  even  in  prisons,  the  men  of  violence  and 
crime  are  under  restraint.  The  fear  of  punish- 
ment; the  dread  of  disgrace;  the  desire  of  favour; 
the  spirit  of  pride,  and  a  thousand  other  motives 
keep  men  within  some  bounds.  But  in  hell  all 
these  will  be  removed.  There  will  be  no  motive 
to  keep  back  the  most  outrageous  crimes.  All  the 
vile  and  violent  passions  will  be  let  loose.  It  will 
be  like  unchaining  a  multitude  of  furious  maniacs. 
There  will  be  no  shame.  The  virtuous  and  the 
pure,  whose  good  oj)ini()n  they  wished  to  have  on 
the  earth,  and  whose  influence  kept  them  in  some 
restraint,  will  be  in  heaven.  They  care  not  for 
their  companions  in  despair. 

No  laws  will  be  there  to  keep  them  in  check. 
There  will  be  nothing  to  be  gained  by  good  be- 
haviour and  hypocrisy.  Rage,  hatred,  madness,  lust 


143 

and  violence  will  prevail.  Despair  will  drive  them 
on  to  unceasing  wickedness.  Curses  and  oaths, 
and  all  that  is  hateful  and  abominable  in  language, 
will  be  unrestrained. 

All  this  must  go  on  increasing  in  horror.  No 
hope  of  escape  will  ever  cheer  one  of  the  wretched 
company.  Not  an  expectation  of  deliverance  will 
be  indulged.  For  ever  and  for  ever  it  must  last! 
Even  death  is  denied;  there  is  no  weakening  or 
decay  of  the  life;  there  is  nothing  to  alleviate  or 
drown  the  anguish.  There  is  nothing  to  gratify 
the  wicked  desires  of  the  soul.  The  drunkard 
raves  in  vain  for  his  cups.  The  sensualist  burns 
with  ungratified  and  growing  appetites. 

I  ask,  is  all  this  any  thing  more  than  the  natu- 
ral consequence  of  excluding  sinners  from  heaven? 
iMust  not  this  be  the  scene  where  "  the  abomi- 
nable" are  fixed  in  one  eternal  place  of  exile?  And 
is  not  this  hell  enough  to  stop  any  sinner  in  his 
course?  Is  it  not  enough  to  cause  every  impeni- 
tent person  to  cry  out,  what  must  I  do  to  be  saved  I 
Reader,  wu.l  you  go? 


f         144 

WILL    YOU   COME? 

I  have  attempted  to  give  the  most  favourable 
view  conceivable  of  the  place  of  endless  punish- 
ment. I  only  ask  that  hell  should  be  considered 
as  the  eternal  abode  of  all  the  unpardoned  beings 
that  have  ever  existed  in  this  world,  or  have  been 
cast  out  from  heaven,  and  then  I  put  the  question 
to  every  one  who  is  not  a  Christian,  idll  you  go  to 
such  a  place  as  this  is? 

I  would  now  call  the  reader's  attention  to  the 
voice  which  sounds  from  heaven.  It  is  that  of  the 
Spirit  and  the  Bride,  saying,  come.  It  is  echoed 
by  him  that  hcareth — comk.  It  presents  the  other 
side  of  the  great  alternative  which  is  presented  to 
sinners  in  this  life,  and  which  in  the  day  of  judg- 
ment will  mark  the  (lisj)osition  of  the  two  multi- 
tudes that  will  stand  before  the  throne,  when  to 
one  shall  be  said,  "  Come  ye  blessed  of  my  Fa- 
ther," and  the  other  "  shall  go  away  into  everlast- 
ing punishment." 

And  here,  to<»,  1  will  lay  out  of  view  all  other  re- 
presentations of  the  glory  and  felicity  of  heaven 


145 

which  are  given  us  in  the  Scriptures.  I  would,  as 
in  the  other  case,  abstract  every  other  considera- 
tion of  what  constitutes  the  happiness  of  heaven. 
I  would  leave  out  of  view  the  visions  of  the  beloved 
disciple,  and  of  the  apostle  who  was  "  caught  up 
into  paradise."  I  would  simply  ask  the  reader, 
whatever  and  wherever  heaven  may  be,  should  he 
not  risk  every  thing  else  to  be  for  ever  icitli  the 
Lordl  Would  you' not  feel  perfectly  safe,  and  as- 
sured of  happiness,  if  you  believed  you  were  going 
to  dwell  without  any  ceasing,  in  the  place  where 
God  is,  as  an  infinitely  happy  being,  reconciled  to 
and  rejoicing  in  all  who  are  with  him?  Would  you 
not  be  willing  to  trust  your  soul  on  such  an  assur- 
ance, though  the  place  and  the  employments  of 
heaven  should  be  undefined? 

Yes;  this  is  the  hope  and  confidence  of  the 
Christian.  Noio  he  is  a  son  of  God.  This  is  enough 
for  him  to  know,  even  though  it  doth  not  yet  ap- 
pear what  he  shall  be.  But  he  knows,  too,  that 
when  his  Redeemer  shall  appear  he  shall  see  him 
as  he  is. 

Surely  this  is  reasonable.  After  all  that  God  has 
done  for  men;  after  all  that  Christ  has  endured  for 

T 


146 

them;  after  all  the  manifestation  of  love  which  he 
has  made  to  his  redeemed  children,  they  may  be 
confident  that  their  joy  will  be  full  when  they  are 
taken  to  his  very  presence  in  heaven.  Surely  if 
God  spared  not  his  own  Son  for  their  sakes,  he 
will,  together  with  him,  freely  give  them  all  things. 

There,  too,  will  be  collected  all  that  was  pure 
and  holy  on  earth  and  in  heaven.  The  spirits  of 
just  men  made  perfect,  and  an  innumerable  com- 
pany of  angels,  are  there.  Every  being  is  a  sanc- 
tified one. 

Holy  love  will  be  universal  throughout  all  the 
myriads.  Peace  and  joy  will  prevail  without  any 
cessation  or  disturbance.  There  will  be  none  to 
interrupt  the  harmony  of  the  blessed  family. 

Is  not  this  enough  to  attract  our  souls  to  heaven? 
Is  not  this  prospect  of  eternal  peace  and  safety, 
this  assurance  of  for  ever  dwelling  with  God  and 
the  saints,  enough  to  captivate  every  heart  that 
feels  its  immortality? 

Reader,  will  you  come  ? 


•  « 


147 


THE  STAR  OF  BETHLEHEM. 

When  marshall'd  on  the  nig-htly  plain, 

The  glittering  host  bestud  the  sky, 
One  star  alone,  of  all  the  train, 

Can  fix  the  sinner's  wandering  eye. 
Hark !  hark !  to  God  the  chorus  breaks 

From  every  host,  from  every  gem ; 
But  one  alone  the  Saviour  speaks, 

It  is  the  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

Once  on  the  raging  seas  I  rode. 

The  storm  was  loud, — the  night  was  dark. 
The  ocean  yawn'd, — and  rudely  blow'd 

The  wind  that  toss'd  my  foundering  bark. 
Deep  horror  then  my  vitals  froze, 

Death-struck  I  ceas'd  the  tide  to  stem  ; 
When  suddenly  a  star  arose. 

It  was  the  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

It  was  my  guide,  my  light,  my  all, 

It  bade  my  dark  forebodings  cease, 
And  through  the  storm  and  dangers'  thrall, 

It  led  me  to  the  port  of  peace. 
Now  safely  moor'd — my  perils  o'er — 

I'll  sing,  first  in  night's  diadem, 
For  ever  and  for  evermore, 

The  star,  the  Star  of  Bethlehem. 


148 


NEW  YEAR'S  HYMN. 

While  with  ceaseless  course,  the  sun 

Hasted  through  the  former  year, 
Many  souls  their  race  have  run, 

Never  more  to  meet  us  here : — 
Fixed  in  an  eternal  state, 

They  have  done  with  all  below  ; 
We  a  little  longer  wait, 

But  how  little,  none  can  know. 

As  the  winged  arrow  flies, 

Speedily  the  mark  to  find, 
As  tiie  light'ning  from  the  skies 

Darts  and  leaves  no  trace  beliind  ; 
Swiftly  thus  our  fleeting  days 

Bear  us  down  life's  rapid  stream ; 
Upwards,  Lord,  our  spirits  raise, 

All  below  is  but  a  dream. 

Thanks  for  mercies  past  receive ; 

Pardon  of  our  sins  renew; 
Teach  us,  henceforth,  how  to  live 

With  eternity  in  view : 
Bless  thy  word  to  young  and  old. 

Fill  us  with  a  Saviour's  love ; 
And  when  life's  short  tale  is  told, 

jMay  we  (Uveli  with  tlice  above. 


149 


CONSTRUCTION  OF  A  FLY'S  FOOT. 


The  Psalmist  David,  who  was  possessed  of  a 
truly  philosophic  mind,  and  whose  ardent  piety- 
was  equal  to  the  strength  of  his  intellect  and  the 
depth  of  his  scientific  research,  has  declared,  "  O 
Lord,  how  manifold  are  thy  works!  in  wisdom 
hast  thou  made  them  all."  And  to  this  pious  tes- 
timony every  man  who  has  properly  investigated 
the  appropriate  and  harmonious  character  of  the 
Creator's  work  must  contribute  his  unhesitating 
assent.  The  wisdom  and  power  of  God  are  exhi- 
bited in  the  minute  as  well  as  in  the  more  magnifi- 
cent parts  of  creation.  The  stupendous  elephant, 
the  ponderous  whale,  and  those  amazingly  massive 
orbs  which  compose  the  solar  system,  all  bear  the 
impress  of  infinite  wisdom  and  divine  power,  but 
this  impress  is  stamped  with  equal  depth,  though  in 
characters  less  legible,  because  of  smaller  dimen- 
sion, on  the  most  insignificant  insect  that  crawls 


150        ♦ 

unseen  upon  the  earth,  or  that  buzzes  in  the  air. 
This  remark  is  strikingly  exemplified  by  Dr. 
Hooke,  in  the  interesting  description  which  he  has 
furnished  of  the  wonderful  construction  of  the  foot 
of  a  fly.  In  this  account  the  doctor  produces  very 
satisfactory  mechanical  reasons  for  the  remarka- 
ble ability  of  this  creature  to  walk  on  smooth  sur- 
faces, and  even  on  the  under  surfaces  of  polished 
bodies.  The  doctor  has  proved,  by  microscopic 
inspection,  that  the  foot  of  a  fly  consists  of  three 
joints,  two  talons,  and  as  many  pattens,  soles,  or 
sponges,  as  some  writers  call  them;  by  the  wonder- 
ful contrivance  of  which  instruments  this  creature 
is  enabled  to  walk  perpendicularly  upwards,  even 
against  the  sides  of  glass,  nay,  to  suspend  itself, 
and  walk  with  its  body  downwards  on  the  ceiling 
of  rooms,  and  on  the  under  surfaces  of  most  other 
things,  with  all  possible  facility  and  firmness.  The 
two  talons  are  handsomely  shaped,  regularly  taper- 
ing to  the  ends,  and  are  very  large  in  proportion 
to  the  rest  of  the  foot.  The  thicker  part  of  them 
is  bristled,  or  hairy,  all  over;  but  the  tops,  or 
points,  which  turn  downwards  or  inwards,  are 
smooth,  and  very  sharp.     Each  talon  moves  on  a 


151 

joint,  whereby  the  fly  is  able  to  shut  or  open  them 
at  pleasure;  so  that  the  points  of  the  talons,  having 
entered  the  pores  of  any  thing,  and  the  fly  endea- 
vouring to  shut  them,  they  not  only  draw  against, 
and  by  that  means  fasten  each  other,  but  also  pull 
forward  all  the  parts  of  the  foot ;  and  at  the  same 
time  the  tenters,  or  sharp  points,  (of  which  a  fly 
has  two  at  every  joint,)  run  into  the  pores,  if  they 
find  any,  or  on  a  soft  place  make  their  own  way. 
Somewhat  of  this  kind  may  be  discerned  by  the 
naked  eye  in  the  feet  of  a  chafer;  and  if  it  be  al- 
lowed to  creep  over  the  hand,  or  on  any  tender 
part  of  the  body,  its  manner  of  stepping  will  be  as 
sensible  to  the  feeling  as  it  is  to  the  sight.  But  as 
the  chafer,  notwithstanding  this  contrivance  to 
fasten  its  claws,  often  falls  when  it  walks  on  hard 
or  close  bodies;  so  likewise  would  the  fly,  had  not 
the  Creator  furnished  its  foot  with  a  couple  of  pat- 
tens, or  sponges,  which  the  doctor  next  describes. 
From  the  bottom  or  under  part  of  the  last  joint  of 
the  foot,  two  small,  thin-plated,  horny  substances 
proceed,  each  consisting  of  two  flat  pieces.  They 
seem  to  be  flexible,  like  the  covers  of  a  book, 
whereby  the  two  sides  do  not  always  He  on  the 


152 

same  plane;  but  may  sometimes  shut  close,  so  that 
each  of  them  can  take  a  little  hold.  But  this  is  not 
all ;  for  the  bottom  of  the  sponges  are  everywhere 
beset  with  small  bristles,  or  tenters,  like  the  wire 
teeth  of  a  wool-card,  with  all  their  points  inclining 
forwards;  by  which  the  two  talons,  drawing  the 
trunk  forward,  as  before  described,  and  the  sponges 
being  applied  to  the  surface  of  the  body  which  the 
fly  walks  upon,  with  the  points  of  all  their  bristles 
looking  Ibrvvards  and  outwards,  if  the  surface  of 
the  body  has  any  irregularity,  or  gives  way  in  any 
manner,  the  fly  can  suspend  itself  or  walk  thereon 
very  easily  and  firmly.  And  its  being  able  to  walk 
on  glass  proceeds  partly  from  some  little  rugged- 
ness  thereon;  but  chiefly  a  kind  of  tarnish,  or  smoky 
substance  which  adheres  to  the  surface  of  that  very 
hard  body,  so  that  although  the  sharp  points  on  the 
sponges  cannot  penetrate  the  surface  of  the  glass, 
they  may  easily  enough  catch  hold  of  the  tarnish 
it  has  contracted. 

From  this  account  of  the  wonderful  mechanism 
of  this  comparatively  insignificant  part  of  creation, 
we  learn  how  much  we  are  indebted  to  human  in- 
vention and  scientific  research,  for  the  valuable 


153 

means  they  have  furnished  for  contempK-tting  those 
amazingly  minute  productions  of  infinite  wisdom 
and  power  which  exist  in  ahnost  every  department 
of  creation.  But  for  the  invention  of  that  useful 
philosophical  instrument,  the  microscope,  the  asto- 
nishing mechanism  displayed  in  the  foot  of  a  fly, 
and  also  in  an  extensive  variety  of  the  minute  parts 
of  the  works  of  God,  would  ever  have  remained 
unknown  to  us;  inasmuch  as  they  are  far  too  small 
in  their  dimensions  to  he  investigated  by  the  unas- 
sisted eye  of  man.  From  this  interesting  exhibi- 
tion we  are  also  reminded  of  the  extreme  folly  of 
those  persons  who  can  contemplate  the  appropri- 
ateness of  God's  purposes  in  creation,  and  yet  with 
a  reckless  impiety  aflect  to  ascribe  the  whole  to  an 
indescribable  something,  which  they  designate 
chance!  We  learn  also  to  admire  and  adore  that 
unfathomable  wisdom  which  exercises  itself  with 
equal  care  and  certainty  in  the  insignificant  and 
minute  as  in  the  magnificent  and  ponderous  parts 
of  creation.  And  with  fervent  ascriptions  of  praise, 
the  pious  mind  ejaculates,  "  Wonderful  are  thy 
works,  O  Lord !  in  wisdom  hast  thou  made  them 
all !" 

u 


154 


IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 

The  grave  is  not  a  place  of  rest, 

As  unbelievers  teach, 
Where  grief  can  never  win  a  tear, 

Nor  sorrow  ever  reach. 

The  eye  that  shed  the  tear  is  closed, 

The  heaving-  breast  is  cold ; 
But  that  whicii  suffers  and  enjoys, 

No  narrow  grave  can  hold. 

The  mouldering  earth  and  hungry  worm 
The  dust  they  lent  may  claim ; 

But  the  enduring  spirit  lives 
Eternally  the  same. 


155 


ON  THE  NEW  YEAR. 


It  is  the  observation  of  a  great  man,*  that  time 
is  given  us  that  we  may  take  care  of  eternity;  and 
eternity  will  not  be  too  long  to  regret  the  loss  of 
our  time,  if  we  have  mis-spent  it.  As  God  in  his 
mercy  and  providence  has  spared  us  a  little  longer, 
and  permitted  us  to  enter  upon  another  year,  surely 
it  is  our  serious  duty  to  prostrate  ourselves  before 
the  mercy-seat,  and,  in  humble,  fervent  prayer, 
from  the  very  bottom  of  our  hearts,  to  supplicate 
for  grace  to  redeem  the  remainder  of  our  precious 
time.  "Whatsoever  thine  hand  findeth  to  do," 
saith  the  wisest  of  men,  "  do  it  with  thy  might;  for 
there  is  no  work,  nor  device,  nor  knowledge,  nor 
wisdom  in  the  grave,  whither  thou  goest."  We 
are  dying  creatures,  hastening  to  an  eternal  world, 
where  we  must  be  for  ever  happy  with  God  in 

•  Archbishop  Fenelon. 


156 

heaven,  or  miserable  with  devils  in  hell.  What  an 
argument  should  this  bo  with  all  of  us  to  escape 
from  the  wrath  to  come !  Thousands  are  now 
lifting  up  their  eyes  in  hell,  weeping,  and  wailing, 
and  gnashing  tlieir  teeth,  who  have  for  years  la- 
mented, and  will,  in  vain,  through  eternity,  lament 
the  foolishness  of  their  folly,  in  rejecting  the  glori- 
ous gospel  of  God  our  Saviour.  My  dear  reader, 
cry  mightily  to  God  for  his  Divine  Spirit,  that  this 
may  never  be  the  case  with  thee.  If  thou  art  care- 
less, unawakened,  and  unconverted,  oh,  consider 
thy  latter  end,  before  it  be  too  late!  Be  wise  in 
time,  while  it  is  called  to-day.  Husband  thy  pre- 
cious moments,  in  a  proper  and  important  use  of 
them,  by  fleeing  unto  Jesus,  the  only  hope  set  be- 
'  fore  thee  in  the  gospel.  Reflect  that  God  could 
have  long  since  cut  you  down,  and  caused  all  your 
hopes  to  ])erish.  He  could  have  given  you  dark- 
ness instead  of  light,  and  have  sworn  in  his  wrath 
that  you  should  never  enter  into  his  rest.  But  now 
lie  is  still  waiting  to  be  gracious.  He  is  full  of 
compassion,  long-sufl'ering,  and  of  great  goodness; 
not  willing  that  any  sinner  should  perish,  but  that 
all  should  come  to  repentance.   The  blessed  Jesus, 


y 


157 

who  once  had  his  dear  hands  pierced  with  nails  on 
the  cross,  is  now  stretching  them  out,  ready  to  em- 
brace, not  only  every  returning  prodigal,  but  also 
every  penitent,  backsliding  sinner. 

"  Come  unto  me,"  says  Jesus,  "  all  ye  that  labour 
and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 
Matt.  xi.  28.  "  Come  now,  and  let  us  reason  toge- 
ther, saith  the  Lord:  though  your  sins  be  as  scar- 
let, they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow;  though  they 
be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool."  Isa.  i. 
18.  "  Return,  thou  backsliding  Israel,  saith  the 
Lord;  and  I  will  not  cause  mine  anger  to  fall  upon 
5^ou:  for  I  am  merciful,  saith  the  Lord,  and  I  will 
not  keep  anger  for  ever.  Turn,  O  backsliding  chil- 
dren, saith  the  Lord,  for  I  am  married  unto  you; 
and  I  will  take  you  one  of  a  city,  and  two  of  a  fa- 
mily, and  I  will  bring  you  to  Zion.  Return,  ye 
backsliding  children,  and  I  will  heal  your  back- 
slidings."  .Ter.  iii.  12,  14,  22.  What  precious  en- 
couragements, and  gracious  invitations,  are  here 
held  forth  to  us !  May  we  begin  the  new  year 
with  thankfully  receiving  them  !  Let  us  seek  the 
Lord  while  he  may  be  found,  and  call  upon  him 
while  he  is  near.    Now  is  the  accepted  time,  and 


158 

now  is  the  day  of  salvation.  My  dear  young 
friends,  if  you  would  avoid  eternal  misery,  and  be 
for  ever  happy  in  the  blissful  mansions  of  glory, 
embrace  the  finished  salvation  of  Jesus,  which  is 
now  most  affectionately  proposed  to  you,  before  it 
be  for  ever  hid  from  your  eyes.  So  compassionate 
is  our  dear  Saviour,  that  he  is  ready  and  willing 
to  receive  us  graciously,  and  love  us  freely.  He 
is  able  and  willing  to  send  down  the  Holy  Ghost, 
the  Comforter,  to  soften  and  change  our  sinful 
hearts  to  repentance,  and  to  frame  and  I'orm  us  fit 
for  heaven.  May  he,  with  the  commencement  of 
a  new  year,  be  graciously  pleased  to  give  us  new 
hearts,  susceptible  of  divine  and  holy  impressions! 
May  we  know  what  it  is  to  have  a  divine  change 
pass  upon  our  hearts!  May  God  the  Spirit  move 
upon  the  great  deep  of  our  fallen  nature,  and  sow 
the  seed  of  eternal  life  in  our  souls !  Otherwise, 
we  shall  fall  miserably  short  of  heaven ;  for  it  is  a 
standing  maxim  of  the  Bible,  that  without  holiness 
no  man  shall  see  the  I^ord.  True  holiness  consists 
in  a  growing  conformity  to  the  mind  and  will  of 
God,  whereby  a  believer  is  distinguished  from  an 
ungodly  world,   and  is  neither  actuated  by  their 


159 

sinful  principles  and  precepts,  nor  governed  by 
their  foolish  maxims  and  customs.  Dear  reader, 
let  me  exhort  thee  to  begin  this  year  with  self-ex- 
amination. Examine  thyself  whether  thou  art  in 
the  faith;  prove  thine  ownself  Cry  mightily  to 
God  with  David,  and  say,  "  Search  me,  O  God, 
and  know  my  heart:  try  me,  and  know  my 
thoughts :  and  see  if  there  be  any  wicked  way  in 
me,  and  lead  me  in  the  way  everlasting." 

Thus  may  you  be  enabled  to  begin  the  new  year 
with  God;  and  may  he  fill  you  with  all  joy  and 
peace  in  believing,  that  you  may  abound  in  hope 
through  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost !  May  the 
Lord  crown  this  year  with  his  goodness,  by  giving 
you  to  experience  all  the  graces  of  his  Holy  Spirit, 
that  you  may  glorify  him  by  pressing  forward  to 
the  heavenly  Jerusalem;  and  hereafter  an  entrance 
shall  be  ministered  unto  you  abundantly,  into  the 
everlasting  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ. 


THE  END. 


J  "      • 


1  I 


'  «'   •  . 


rms  DOOK  IS  iJUJJ  on  the  last 
date  stamped  below 


10>«-8,'32 


PN6110.R4   A5 


L  009  520  713  0 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    001  232  647    6 


THE 

E^VERGREEN 


f837. 


